


Ever and Ever

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Romance, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2009-10-03
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3745451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rohan is withering under the weight of the war. Calahdra Medlinniel, however, is falling in love. A Shieldmaiden of Rohan, Calahdra is young, damaged, and driven by duty. Yet how could she give her life for her people when she suddenly has so much to live for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

As a lover of books, I recognize the importance of prefaces. I feel as though I owe those who read this story such a background. As Calahdra has taught me, it is usually best to begin a story at the start, and that's where I will begin.

            I started reading fanfiction about a year ago. I had discovered it much sooner, but only then did it begin to truly capture my attention. Since then, hours of my life have been devoted to fanfiction.net, lotrfanfiction.com, twilighted.com, etc....

            As for writing, I've been writing for as long as I can remember. All my life has been one large cycle of complicated, swashbuckling daydreams, and I eventually came to the conclusion that they were better spent on paper than trapped inside my head.

            It would make sense then that I would be immediately attracted to writing my own fanfics. Wrong.

            I have written possibly seven fanfics in eight months and I haven't posted a single one.

            My greatest reason for this is fear. For some reason, my writing embarrasses me. It is a struggle to let anyone so much as glance at my notebooks or binders, and yet when I do relinquish bits and pieces of my writing, people fall utterly in love with it. 

            To me, this is an inexplicable phenomenon that cannot be explained. My fears are pointless and baseless, and I recognize that, and yet posting this fanfic has been one of the greatest struggles of my life.

            Now for more background on Ever and Ever: 

            Calahdra, in many ways, is possibly the one character I have ever created that has absolutely nothing in common with me. And that is what makes her my favorite. She is the farthest thing from anything I could ever be, and that, at least in my mind, makes her the farthest possible thing from a Mary Sue imaginable. I love her for her flaws, which make her interesting. And yet for all her childish immaturity and petty fears, she is eloquent, physically fit, and courageous beyond belief. 

            Rohan has always intrigued me. Of all of the Kingdoms represented in LOTR, I feel as though Rohan has the least bit of history included within the work. Rohan is rustic, hearty, and above all, fearless. Sure, Elves are pretty cool, what with the whole immortality thing, and Gondor's pretty tough with all its glittery armor and angsty man-heroes, but nothing is cooler than a bunch of horseback-riding, spear wielding, warrior men who ultimately save the day when Gondor and the rest of the world fail epically. 

            Legolas...'nuff said...this is Legolas we're talking about!

            No, really. I mean, Legolas is usually portrayed as either a homosexual (which is okay, cause slash is cool when it's well-written, but I find it hard to buy most of the time), or as an angsty elf-prince who abandons his lovers for adventure and fame. And often times, the girl he meets in any other story are really really girly. They have no meat or brains, and are often "perfect". I swear I'm not knocking all Legolas stories, because a whole lot of them are pretty fantastic (check out "West Wind Over Edoras". It has a similar plot line to mine, and it was impressive indeed), but I wanted something fresh, something unexpected, and something that pushed people's boundaries. 

            And so Calahdra was born. She's wild. She's damaged. She's odd. And I love her. A whole ton. 

             


	2. Sighting

The wind was playing with the Snowbourne, and the sun caressed its rippling surface as it set behind the White Mountains. I sat on a hill before the river, my knees tucked beneath my chin, hair loose and untamed about my face. Behind me, my mare whinnied impatiently. She knew as well as I that as night fell over the Westemnet, the fields and moors of Rohan became dark and pernicious. That death followed travelers at night like their shadows did during the day. 

I stood wearily, my body aching from my long held seat on the hillside. Long had I watched the Snowbourne that day, following is constant currents with my weary eyes. What I sought for, I knew not, but my heart told me that soon, whatever it was that I was missing, I would find. And find it, I did.

                                                                                 

I rode back to Edoras with but a little haste. Meduseld, as grand as it was, had become a prison for many, and my heart wished not to be locked up once more. What with the ailing King and his pet snake ever at his side, there was little to celebrate within the great Hall. It had been a home to me for little more than two months, and yet for all its coldness and near cruelty, due mostly to the gloom that came creeping about with the rumors of war, it had been the kindest home I had ever known. 

With Meleare stabled and groomed, I retired to my quarters unnoticed much to my gratification.  My presence had become a constant thorn in Wormtongue's side, but he was too much of a coward to confront me, and instead prodded some of the burlier, less respectable soldiers into harassing me. But it bothered me little, for I was use to such talk and was fairly sure that I could take them if their tormenting ever came to a fight. 

I began to settle in for the night and sat at my dressing desk. I brushed at my hair, staring at the drapes fluttering about my window. I turned back, and was suddenly stilled by the reflection that stared back at me. 

My appearance had been the topic of most of the few conversations my mother had ever had with me. She had accused me of being "boyish", "unladylike", "wild", and "uncouth". Her comments rarely fazed me, for she was the only person to ever comment on my looks. This in itself told me that if she was right, then others would have noticed it as well. 

I could admit that my looks were strange, almost unnatural for woman of Rohan. Instead of the typical womanly hips and tall figure, I was entirely different. I was almost dangerously thin, with nearly no curves at all. My skin was the color of wheat, golden and warm, and I discarded the fashion of wearing my hair long and braided by cutting it to the length of my collarbone. My hair, even, was an unusual color. It was the color of bronze, a sort of reddened chestnut that drew odd looks, for women of Rohan were almost always blonde.

Of my face, I had a thin nose, high cheeks, and a gentle brow, positioned liltingly over grey eyes. My eyes, of all things, were the one thing that my mother seemed proud of. They were deep, so deep that many had difficulty meeting my gaze, and were marbled with different shades of blue, grey, and lavender, and contained by long, red-black lashes. 

Of course, my odd appearance was to be expected, for my mother was half-elven, a fact that was kept hidden from many. How she had come to exist, I had never known, and why she had chosen the world of mortals over the legendary halls and domains of elves, I could not ask, for my mother could be described in one word: cold. 

I had never truly thought of her as a mother, for one so silent and shrewd could not have born one as high-strung and merry as me. She had always resented my energy, as well as my affinity with nature and human beings, and as time progressed, she became bent to beat my enthusiasm out of me. Instead of swimming and climbing trees, I was forced to study music, literature, language, and math. It was not these things did not disinterest me, for I seemed to have been born with some natural and undeniable curiosity for knowledge, but my pride was badly bruised by my mother's curtailing of my true passions. 

I had grown up in a small southern fief on the border of the Firien Wood and the Mering Stream, not but a few leagues from Gondor. The people of my father's province adored me, but they held a harsh bitterness for my parents. Ada and Naneth, as I had called them after supplementing elvish into as much of my speech as possible, were just leaders, but lent little compassion to their people. And it was rued by some that my mother was clearly not Rohirric, what with her raven black hair and pale gold skin, and that she remained locked up in her quarters throughout the year. 

But the people of my fief had always adored me, and naturally, when my mother began the "re-conquering" of her own daughter, the villagers I had known my whole life were quite simply appalled. And as I grew, I saw less and less of the rest of the outside world. I was sequestered away to such a point were I went mad. Quite truly mad. I began seeing things were they did not exist, hearing voices in my head, waking screaming from nightmares of suffocation and containment. Eventually, my mother gave up, and with the first chance she got, Naneth shipped me away to Edoras to serve as a maid to the King.

As it turned out, Meduseld already had enough handmaids, and my mother's obvious and well known ignorance of Rohirric custom allowed me to slip into the much more conventional role as a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. Of course, men looked at me with skepticism. 'How could a scrawny thing like that wield a weapon?' they would ask. Little did they know that I had been able to wield a longsword since I was seven, and had hit a bull's-eye with a longbow at five from over two hundred paces away.

My assorted talents certainly filled out a long list, but in honesty, they didn't seem to matter. For I was _that_ girl. The one that no one talked to, that everyone looked at but never noticed. The one that people were afraid to laugh at yet laughed at anyways to wash away their fear.  

The pain had never escaped me, yet I had become a master at pushing it back. I held my head high and kept my eyes clear, for my life was a constant hazard. I did not cry, ever. It was a source of pride for me, that no matter how hard life became, the tears did not fall. That every strike and every scar had earned nothing more than a wince. I was strong, I knew it, and yet every day of my life seemed to be a struggle in which I fought to convince myself of that. 

And with my thoughts buried in dark memories, I succumbed to the growing dark of night and fell into something like sleep.

The next day was much the same. I woke early to complete my chores and training, and then rode to the Snowbourne, settling on the same hill as the day before about an hour before sun-rise. This time, I had brought a grindstone and set to sharpening my daggers and hunting knife. 

Behind me, Meleare snickered to herself softly as she cropped the grasses and herbs growing on the hillside. I reached out every once and a while to stroke her foreleg, and she would blow warm air at my face in thanks. 

Meleare had been the one constant companion I had ever had. She was very young, as war horses went, for she had been a gift on my thirteenth birthday. My mother had hated the prospect of her daughter riding a creature designed to kill, but my Ada was Marshall of the Fenmarch, and so he encouraged every bit of protection I could harbor for myself.  Meleare was more than a shield though; she was a friend. 

The sun rose relatively quickly. I was surprised at how well I could distract myself from whatever it was that was haunting me. My irrational obsession was something I could not explain with words. All I could understand was that my heart seemed to be tugging towards the land beyond the Snowbourne, as if some magnet had caught hold of my soul and was dragging me away to the north with an undeniable force. Yet I sat still on the hillside, confident that eventually whatever it was that was pulling me would give up and come to me. 

It was just after dawn when I saw them. Three horses, one a brilliant white, another grey, another chestnut, were racing towards Edoras. I rose, watching as they sped through the Snowbourne and continued up the hill to the city. I watched after them for but a half-second before leaping onto Meleare bareback and charging after them. I kept a fair distance behind them and they did not appear to notice me, for I was quiet and Meleare's footfalls were light. They slowed only as they passed by the funeral mounds of the court. When they took back to the reigns, I followed them to the city gates, and watched them dismount as they were confronted by first several wary soldiers, and then the gate keeper, who led them to Meduseld. I continued following before reaching the stables. I dismounted when they did, watching the riders cloaked backs anxiously as I handed Meleare to a stable groom and raced through the city quickly to the servant's entrance of Meduseld. I made my way to the hall via the kitchens and stood encased in shadows beneath a pillar. 

I did not appear to be the only one absolutely shocked at the four figures now striding purposefully towards Théoden 's throne.

The center most figure and most prominent to my eyes was an old, grey haired man. I would not have noticed him if it were not for the way my skin seemed to crawl at the sight of him. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but rather a warning to me that his man was more than he appeared, and he did not appear to be much at all. 

The man next to him was handsome and dark, with a rough mane of black hair about his head and a regal spark to his weathered eyes. My skin itched as I beheld him as well. 

On the other side of the elderly man was a shockingly short and stout figure. I knew at once that he was a dwarf, but never had I ever expected to see one of his kind. Thick was his dark hair and beard, and he looked quite fearsome, but the wrinkles about his eyes told me that he was a merrier fellow than he now appeared.

I was glad that I looked at those three before the last, for it seemed that as I beheld him, little else mattered to my eyes. 

Tall, stately, sculpted. He was a creature out of a fantasy. His golden locks shone even in the dim light of Meduseld, and his bright grey-green eyes sparkled furiously. He had a high forehead, straight nose, and full, almost feminine lips. His layered tunics and cloak could not hide his toned body, and not an inch of him was more or less than what it should have been. 

 Perfection was the only word that truly seemed to do him justice. 


	3. Falling

Just as I stood out from the column, trying to find a new angle to admire him from, his eyes met mine. I froze. 

At first, the power of his eyes assaulted me. A great wave of power and emotion nearly overwhelmed me, and his eyes seemed to be the only things holding me upwards. As I fought to remain upright while also breaking the grasp of his eyes, his brow furrowed slightly, a single crease dividing his perfect forehead. 

His brow arched as he looked at me, and almost at once his eyes softened. He seemed to sway a little, as if debating whether or not to come to me, yet he remained, and turned once more to the King. 

I watched after him. My mind made little sense of what happened afterwards. Words were exchanged between the worm and the old man, and the three other riders took defensive stances behind him. My eyes were glazed over, my mind trapped in a perpetual state of replaying what had occurred before, until a single crack and flash of light much like lightening broke through my wandering mind. 

Gasps lit throughout the hall, and I looked to Wormtongue to see him sprawled out over the steps leading to the King's throne. Théoden stood, and Eowyn, who had been waiting as always at her uncle's side, came to him. The old man, now clad in brilliant white, bade her away. 

I clutched at my pillar, feeling somewhat light-headed. It seemed quite pitiful that I had missed whatever it was that passed between the man, Gandalf, he was called, and the King. Yet, I was glad for it, for Wormtongue seemed to be a threat no more. Theoden now stood at the doors of Meduseld, and the cool wind played with the hair of all in the room. Only one set of locks captured my attention, though. Pure gold seemed to be tickling the air behind the man, and several sections of it were braided and bound with beads. Like rays of the sun, I thought, brandishing their haughty warmth against the grey sky.

I was aware of his presence behind me at once. 

"My lady, are you well?"

His voice was so soft, like the caress of a flower petal against one's skin. 

I turned, mustering some strength at the glorious sight of him, to my surprise. "Yes, my lord, I am."

His eyes met mine and he smiled at me. "May I ask your name, my lady?"

I smiled back, "Yes, for my lady is far too formal for a shieldmaiden," his lips twitched at this, which sent my heart into a furious rampage throughout my chest. "My name is Calahdra, my lord. Calahdra Medlinniel of Fenmarch,"

His smooth brow creased once more, though not as severely as before. 

"My lord?" I asked.

"That is a powerful, name, Calahdra. One with elvish roots,"

At once, I understood his perfection. He was an elf. Oddly, I felt a sudden relief at this, as well as an intimate sense of kinship with him.

"My mother is half-elven," I relayed, my voice quiet. I had never told anyone that, especially not a stranger, and yet this man seemed to pull everything from me, whether it be my heart, my words, or my smile. 

The crease tightened for a moment, and then relaxed as he smiled. My heart looped around my stomach.

"Well, then Calahdra, Saesa omentien lle. My name is Legolas," (Pleasure meeting you)

"Quel amrun, Heru en amin Legolas," (Good morning, my lord Legolas)

He smiled once more, flashing a set of perfect teeth at her. "But tell me, Calahdra, how is it that you have come here?"

"My father is...was, Marshall of Fenmarch, a fief southwest of here. My mother governs that area of land when he is unable to," My throat constricted at this. It was impossible to tell anyone the truth about my Ada, and Legolas, although intoxicatingly charming, was no exception.

"Incredible," he mussed, seeming entranced with me. Little did Legolas know that he had stolen the word right out of my own mouth. 

He continued staring at me for sometime, his eyes tracing my face again and again. His scrutiny of my features would have bothered me, made me blush even, but I was too preoccupied looking him over as well. 

"Legolas! Leave the poor thing alone! Come, Gandalf wishes to speak to us,"

Legolas tore his eyes from me and looked down at Gimli, who was resting a very imposing axe on one of the steps leading up to the walkway that ran about the perimeter of the Hall. I looked over the stout dwarf. 

"She's not poor, Gimli, quite the contrary. But I will come, if Mithrandir wishes it," Legolas said, an amiable twinkle visible in his verdant eyes. He turned to me. "Will I see you soon, Arwenamin?" (My Lady)

"Yes, I am sure of it, Heruanim. And, as I said before,"my lady" is far to bold a title for me. I am but a maid in these halls, and little more than another sword when in battle," I admitted, a blush finally painting my cheeks. Legolas smiled, a gentleness coming to his smooth face that made me feel at ease at once. 

"Aieriel, I name you then, for you are very small to claim that you can wield a long sword among these other men," ("eye-eer-aye-ell", a mixture of "small one" and "valiant maiden") he said, gesturing to the pockets of haggard soldiers about the hall.

I gave him a crooked grin. "Oh, master elf, I can wield a sword. I can wield a sword very well," 

Legolas looked at me for a moment, an odd look on his face. It took me a few moments to realize what he could have confused my words for. I let out a small gasp of horror.

"No! No, that isn't what I meant!" I insisted, feeling flustered. What a fool I was! 

He smiled once more. "Well, I certainly hope not, Aieriel, for you are far too young to wield a sword _that_ way," I bit my lip as he said this, for he seemed to be both teasing me and chastising me at the same time. Just as I began to turn away, he reached out to me, his fingers grazing my shoulder. His voice lowered, "Perhaps I will be able to witness this skill you claim to possess sometime,"

It was my turn now to stare, feeling a sudden heat course down my spine. Legolas laughed, his voice the sound of rain carried on a summer breeze. "Tenna' telwan san', Aieriel," (Until next we meet) he said, his voice still shaking with laughter. I managed a weak smile before regaining my composure. Staring at his back as he returned to the center of the Hall, I called after him "Tenna' San', Heruanim,"(Until then, my lord)

I returned to my shadowy refuge, and kneeled safely out of sight behind the pillar. I would never truly come to realize the impact of that meeting on the rest of my life, nor the way it would change the world I lived in forever. But in that moment, I could scarcely remember my own name. 

            

The day passed into evening. I stayed indoors within the living quarters of Meduseld. Fate mocked me as always, and I was assigned to arranging the quarters for the visitors. Although Gandalf had passed off permanent rooms as a convenience that they did not have time for, they would need a place to stay for the night, and I had been assigned to the task of making such arrangements when I had arrived in Edoras.

I assigned several maids to the task of cleaning out two of the guest rooms in the main housing complex, and set to finding suitable closing for the four. I ransacked several laundries and abandoned closets, as well as the morgue. Although I was not friendly with the staff of Meduseld, the common folk that worked in the grounds of the palace had come to adore me. They reminded me much of the friends I had lost in Fenmarch, and it was easy for me to return to the amiable and trustworthy peasants that I had always adored. 

Marmagen (mar-ma-jen), head laundress of the barracks, had taken me under her wing at once. She was a pudgy, middle-aged woman who had abandoned her husband when she had learned that she was incapable of baring children. Her reckless attitude and haughty attitude had drawn me in at once, and I had soon found myself at her side, helping with laundry and gossiping with her about the lives of other townsfolk. 

I consulted her at once, desperately in need of finding new clothing for the strangers.

"I can probably find something, sweet. Now tell me, were any of these men good looking. Were any of them sweet on you? Because I can whack em' if they were," she said, entirely honest. 

I laughed, and as I did so, I could feel that my laughter was off, the sound too high and sharp. "No, no, Marma. Trust me, I think I scared them all, if anything," I told her, although feeling guilty at the partial lie. 

Marmagen smiled, the skin around her eyes wrinkled with sun and laughter. Yet, some part of her seemed disappointed. "Well, you're bound to find one sometime," she murmured, turning back to her wash.

"What, clothes Marma? I'm sure to find some here," I said, trying to lighten the mood. I knew what the laundress had meant, but I wished fervently to deny it. 

Marma smiled gently, and looked back at me. "Child you know what I meant. You're too smart to be that daft," Her gritty voice had taken on a new tone, one I had not heard from her before. 

"Cal, girls your age aren't fighting men twice their age or racing horses. They're finding men to marry, men who'll become the fathers of their children," I blushed at once. I had never expected her to say anything like this. And yet she stared me seriously in the eye, waiving her laundry paddle in the air as she spoke. "You, girl, are no exception, regardless of how good you are at fighting, or the way you can speak to horses like they're people. People in Rohan think you're strange cause of the way you look, but girl, I've never seen anyone with more of Rohan in their heart. And these strangers you speak of, well, I haven't seen em', but if any of them are young enough for a girl like you, I bet you'd win em' over with a look,"

I stared at Marmagen, and the way she looked back told me that the expression on my face was highly skeptical. And yet her perception was terrifying. The way that Legolas had looked at me was exactly the way that I had stared at him, and I knew that my gawking at his perfection was a testament to the way I had fallen for him.

But love him? I couldn't tell. Love was a mystery to me. My parents had not loved each other, and no boy or man had ever expressed any purely romantic interest in me. 

Falling, loving...they both seemed as deadly as fighting to me. 


	4. Focus

When I had completed my chores for the day, I fetched my bow and went to the archery range. I often spent my afternoons there, practicing my aim and proving my worth to nearby soldiers. There was no doubt that I was a better shot than any of them, but that I owed in part to my elvish blood. Elves were surpassingly quick and had heightened senses that were far superior to any man's.  
  
I found my skill to be lacking that day, for my mind was not focused. Whenever I envisioned my arrow striking the center of a target, Legolas' face was all I could see. My immature infatuation frustrated me. Certainly a single man could not interfere so drastically with a talent that had always come natural to me. And yet my accuracy had visibly decreased a great deal.  
  
Perhaps it was no girlish crush, however.  
  
Perhaps that longing in my soul, which had ruled my conscience for a week, and that now had disappeared all together, had been warning me of this elf. Perhaps this was what I had been searching for.   
  
I shook my head, though, and worked doubly hard to block all thoughts of golden hair or pointed ears from my mind.  
  
An hour or so passed, and I had tuned out the sounds and sights around me, honing my focus as best I could. Yet for all my mental shielding, a single voice easily penetrated my ears.  
  
"You clearly have great skill, Aieriel,"  
  
I nearly jumped at the honey-sweet voice, but my focus kept me cool, and I turned without falter to the elf behind me.  
  
"Mae Govannen, Legolas," I said, shielding my eyes from the sunlight haloing his face as I looked up at him. He surveyed me with warm eyes, and I could not help but sigh a little at the glorious sight of him. "Yet today it seems that my skill has been impeded on,"  
  
"You must be worried about something, then. What is it that is troubling you?" he asked.  
  
I paused for a moment, weighing the risks of telling him the truth. They seemed to greatly outweigh the pros in that moment, and so I skimmed around the truth and gave him only a few outlying causes of my unrest.  
  
"Well, firstly, because the king has been "awakened", so to speak, he will surely take military action soon. Part of me wishes not to be uprooted from Edoras, for it has been my home these last two months," the sardonic tone in my voice could not edge out the sadness, and I loosed another arrow far too soon, so that it glanced off the target I had aimed for and landed on the ground before it. A low curse escaped my lips.   
  
Legolas listened to my complaint with concern, and when I finished, he pulled his own bow, a handsome and clearly princely object, from his back and loosed an arrow all in a split second. I raised my brows in amazement.   
  
"You have great skill yourself," I pointed out.  
  
Legolas gave me a polite smiled. "Indeed. Archery is my passion," he stated simply. He turned back to the target then and shot two more arrows in quick succession.   
  
"I too know what it is like to have war uproot you from your home. I know the fear that accompanies such a thing," Legolas turned back to me, "It is never a welcomed feeling, to lose a place you called home. But such is life, meleth, and we have no sway in the workings of the Valar,"  
  
I nodded solemnly, and turned back to my own target, this time hitting my mark squarely. To my surprise, Legolas continued.  
  
"I left everything I knew, everything I could have had. I threw away any chance at a life of peace. I knew the consequences of my actions, Calahdra. I knew what my duty was, and what I had to do. But a sense of duty certainly does not lessen the pain,"   
  
I looked at him, a thousand questions clear in my eyes. He did not look back, and instead of questioning him further, I watched the muscles of his shoulder ripple with power as he loosed another arrow. The way his body leaned and curled with the flex of his bow. How his eyes followed the arrow to its mark, and how his fingers followed a definite routine of retrieving and knocking another arrow without question or hesitation.   
  
After three more of his arrows were let loose, he looked back at me.   
  
"Why did you leave?" I asked, the most obvious of any of the questions I could have asked.   
  
Legolas grew silent and still, as if he was being hunted by some predator.   
  
"That is my own business,"  
  
His voice was cold and bitter, almost desolate with a lack of emotion. Yet his response was so forced that I wondered if he wished he could tell me.   
  
"Then what is the story you are telling people? For an elf could not possibly have come to Edoras on a whim of pleasure, especially one who carries heavy arms," I asked, refusing to be abashed by his brusque reply.  
  
Legolas glared at me, and I nearly choked on my own tongue at the look of rage in his eyes. But at the sight of me, wide eyed and defensive, he gentled, and he seemed to shrink a little.  
  
"I am sorry, Calahdra. My business is my own. I wish, so very much, that I could tell you. But I cannot,"  
  
I looked back at my target, feeling solemn. There was true pain in his voice. Pain caused my the loss of so very much, but also the feeling of drowning in more than you can survive.  
  
"What will you do now, now that you seem pledged to Theoden?" For all the pain I was causing him, I could not constrain my questioning, much to my chagrin.   
  
"I follow Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and my fate will be his,"  
  
He said this as if it was a recitation, something he had practiced aloud.   
  
"Even if his fate is death?" I asked, my head cocked to the side.  
  
"Yes, even if his fate is death," he whispered, loosing another arrow.  
  
We were silent for a time, left to ponder our fates. I was uncertain of my future in that moment. I had always imagined myslef dying at my King's side, protecting him with all the life I had left. And yet suddenly, standing beside this elf, that future seemed hazy, almost improbable. I did not know why I felt this way, nor did I wish to find out why.   
  
Legolas, however, seemed fairly certain of his future, as vague as it was. The thought of him dying, however, was enough to send me into a cycle of panic and incredulity.   
  
"What else troubles you?" Legolas asked, clearly sensing at my mood with whatever elvish power he possessed.  
  
I tried desperately to reign in my feelings of confusion, but my scrambled attempt at even more focus alarmed Legolas. He came to me, one hand curved over his mahogany bow, the other coming to rest on my shoulder. I looked at him, perplexed. He smiled softly and shook his head. "Let me try again. Calahdra, please tell me," He coaxed, is voice so low it was nearly seductive.  
  
His coercion might have worked on a human woman, but I was not as entirely subject to his wiles as a woman, and therefore I shook my head.   
  
"It is complicated, Legolas. And for all your compassion, I do not have the heart to tell you,"  
  
"That is fair enough," he responded, and turned away. "If that is so, then let us return to our archery, for it is as great a panacea as any,"  
  
We carried on in companionable silence for a while more, and as the sun began to set, I packed my bow and retrieved my arrows.  
  
  
"I enjoyed spending time with you," Legolas said as he bent to pick up one of his own arrows.   
  
I nodded at him in agreement, and stood to farewell him as my last arrow was found.   
  
"As did I, Legolas. I hope to see you at supper,"  
  
"You shall,"  
  
We stared at each other for a moment, allowing the sounds of soldiers, horses, and weaponry to sink into silence. His unblinking eyes held mine fast, and yet I got the sense that my eyes captivated him as much as his own did mine. The feeling was strange to me, and I looked away first.   
  
"Tenna' san'" I said, pulling my quiver tighter over my shoulder.  
  
"Namarie, aieriel,"   
  
I turned away and fled to my bedroom, where the feelings within me could manifest themselves in whatever wrath they choose without the sensitivities of an elf I had surely fallen for catch me.


	5. Facade

Suppertime was always an anxious event for me. There were few women who kept a permanent residence in Meduseld, and I was one of them. Because I was not truly a maid, I was obligated to supp with the other dignitaries and war-leaders in the Hall. Besides Eowyn, I was the only other woman to join the men at suppertime.

Tonight, however, was an exception to the reasons for my anxiety.

If Legolas was there, then my normally mousy, plain façade would be cracked. He seemed to have a way of bringing out my youthful side, the bit of me my mother had tried to break away.

I put on my evening gown, trading my earth-toned robes and leggings for a light blue dress trimmed with white. It fit me snuggly, embracing my scant curves and willowy frame. I also combed out my hair, and instead of twisting up out of my face as usual, I instead let it lay on my back, full, shiny, and wavy.

I wasn't entirely sure why I was dressing up, but I knew that it mostly had to do with Legolas. His perception of me seemed key in my mind, although such a thought was foreign to me.

As I walked into the Hall, I looked for him at once.

He wasn't there.

Part of me felt betrayed. He had said he would be there, and yet he was gone. I listed possible causes of delay in my mind, trying to rationalize his absence.

Rationalization had never been one of my talents.

But to panic over a single stranger's absence? That seemed silly, almost outrageous. I barely knew this elf, for we had spent but perhaps two hours together.

Yet there was a single, pulsating rift in my chest where my heart had once been and I knew it was because of him.

Supper wore on as always, just a little worse than usual.

 

 

That night, I wrapped myself in one of my softest blankets, trekked out from my quarters, and sat on a cliff face behind Meduseld. I stared after the mountains, letting a frigid breeze paint my face red.

A feeling much like misery consumed me.

How long had it been since I had felt this way? How long had it been since the feelings of loss, of guilt, of regret fall down upon me like the little bits of frost that did now.

It had been long enough, I knew. Long enough that I was due for a dose of desolation and grief.

All the thoughts in my head had conjoined to form a single image. There was me, surrounded by a thousand faceless images, with me screaming out in pain, and everything else laughing in ecstasy at my shrieks of agony.

I attempted to push the thought away, but I lost that battle, as always. So instead of fighting and surely losing, I simply yielded, feeling empty and swollen all at once.

The plains of Rohan are an engrossing scene to look upon. The wind rips at the vegetation in an exceedingly violent way, tearing at the long stalks of grain and grass, stirring up what rocky dust remains looped within the roots of the sparse greens. In the darkness, I could not see the rippling, golden waves of wheat. And yet I knew that they were being tortured by the howling, unyielding force called wind nonetheless.

Simply because you can not see something in pain, and just because its screams have gone unheard, does not mean that it is not dying.

The silence I had wrapped myself in did not mean that I was not withering, too.

I promised myself to stay alive, to stay alive so that I might die an honorable death beside my King. So that my life would not have been spent in vain, as it so often seemed. An yet, to die, I thought, would certainly destroy the uncertainty that seemed to rule my life.

I so very badly wished that someone might find me, sitting here, in this lonely dark. I wished that they might hold my trembling body, whisper things to me that made sense. Things that could remind me of brighter days, where the sun was warm and the wind was gentle.

There was no such person now, and in all likelihood there never would be.

But that thought led me to the poignant and powerful subject of Legolas.

He had certainly captivated my interest, and the way he had seemed to uproot the way I prioritized my life was alarming at the least. Yet his company was comfortable, even though it was quite contrarily exhilarating. Beautiful, yet terrifying. Healing, yet so incredibly painful.

I could have listed the multitudes of paradoxes currently divining my life, but that certainly would have sent me to sleep.

Instead of fixating over the impossibility of my feelings for the elf I barely knew, I let his face simply loom within my consciousness, letting his voice drift on the screams of the wind. He calmed my pulse and found me peace even in my waking dreams. Perhaps this obsession, this sudden mania that he had catapulted my once dreary life into, was a good thing. Perhaps, just maybe, I would be alright.

 

 

 

"My lady?"

I woke with a leap and a gasp.

It seemed that I had fallen asleep where I had lain, and it was well past mid-morning when a soldier found me.

The absolute confusion in his eyes amused me, for I was sure that finding a young woman curled amongst rocks and lichens on a cliff face was far from what he was expecting to find along his watch-route.

"My lady?" he asked again, and it was clear that in his stupor he wasn't sure how to say anything else.

"I am fine, sir. Please, don't mind me," I said, and I turned away, crawling back up the cliff face and heading to my quarters.

I spent the rest of the morning dozing in bed. I was not in a mood to be bothered or stirred, and if my presence was necessary, then I assumed someone could come find me. But when I was in moods such as this, sleep was generally the only thing I could manage.

The sun flickered over my face, and the sounds of the streets settled into a monotonous drone before long. I faded in and out of sleep, and although I was not tired, my gentle lazing helped to bring me peace, for the darkness within me seemed to be quenched by the light I was laying in.

At last, I drew myself from my bed, dressed in a tunic and breeches, and went to the stables. I was still caught in a state of groggy, half-consciousness, but I was awake enough to dodge the horses and soldiers in the courtyards and lawns between the stables.

I went to Meleare in her stable, and I rested my head against her haunches.

_"Are you well, Calahdra? You seem only half-alive,"_ she said, speaking into my mind.

_"I am, meleth. I have slept long this day,"_ I said, and I reached for a comb, with which I polished her coat. She flexed and twitched beneath the pleasurable touch.

_"Why would that be? Did your lovemaking keep you up late?"_

I smiled. Ever since Meleare had caught on to the inner-workings of sarcasm, she had made my life quite interesting.

_"No,"_ was my quiet response, as I shook my head gently.

She seemed to sense that I was in no mood for talk, and so she let me groom her in silence as she munched on hay.

I clipped a rope onto her halter in order to lead her to her paddock. As a farewell gift, my mother had given me enough allowance to afford a private paddock for Meleare. Gifts such as those had become common before I left, and I viewed them as guilt-gifts, given to me out of self-loathing and not genuine love.

But nonetheless, I was quite thankful for it. Meleare received the space and pasture she needed, and I could let her be without fear of other horses or men harassing her.

Meleare's good fortune, however, could not keep men from harassing me.

Still lethargic, I led Mel out of her stable and towards her paddock, only to be blocked by three large soldiers. Behind me stood two others, who were chuckling to themselves softly. My mind awoke at once, and I stood tall, mustering all of my courage.

"Hello, little one. You look uncharacteristically slow today. Late night?" the middle soldier asked, jeering and cruel.

I pushed past him, using Meleare as my buffer. They would not dare try anything violent with a two ton warhorse about.

But the man, for one who reeked so badly of ale and liquor, was surprisingly quick, and he caught me from the behind at once.

Mel began to get nervous, and she stamped her foot loudly against the paver stones.

"Get off," I growled, ripping at the man's hands about my middle. Curling my fingers into claws, I dug my nails into the tendons in his wrists and he leapt back with a cry. "Stay away from me," I hissed once more, but another man came forward, his eyes shining with spirits and lust.

"Come 'ere, lil' 'ore," he mumbled, reaching out for me blindly. I turned around, and pulled Mel with me, making for the door. Mel was tapping at my consciousness, wanting to speak to me, but I needed all the focus I could, and ignored her.

"Come back, wench! Don't be feisty!" one of the men called, and I doubled my speed.

Gold flashed before me, and two emeralds wrapped about a furious flame caught my gaze.

"Legolas?" I breathed, pausing for a moment. But the possible sight of him was too much, too much to add to the many troubles upon me now. I pushed past him as well, and led Meleare to her paddock, leaving the foul, drunken soldiers behind me.


	6. Woven

Once Meleare was safe within fencing and gates, I collapsed, my back pressed hard against a fence post. My head fell to my hands, and I went to pieces for only a moment before standing up again. 

Men had said such things to me before. They had touched me, put there hands about me, whispered lewd things in my ear. I never let it bother me. But for a soldier, an honored individual of the King's guard to say such things to me? Impossible.

I shook my head, but that triggered a headache like none other I had experienced before. Holding onto my forehead, I focused on a gentle light within my head, kneading at the source of the pain with a bit of my own healing power. Eventually, the pain lapsed, and I sighed, sinking to the ground once more.

I shrieked as I sat on someone's booted foot.

Legolas chuckled for a moment, pulling his foot from out beneath me. His laughter died as he sat beside me, letting his long legs unfurl before him, one knee bent causally, the other foot lying to the side. We must have been a sight, he two of us. What with Legolas, long, lanky, and stretched out beneath a fruit tree, and me, plain and quivering, my hair floating about my face.

"Sut naa lle?" (are you well?) he asked quietly, looking at me.

I nodded a little, trying not to jar my still aching temple.

"Headache?" he asked.

"Yes," was my weak reply.

 

Gently, he brought his palms to the sides of my head, twisting his torso so that he was facing me. "May I help?" he asked.

I stared up at him, my heart beating wildly and my eyes frozen open. I gave him a single, slight nod. He closed his eyes.

I felt something cool surround my temple at once, as if a mist of spring rain was wrapped about my head. Then, a warmth spread throughout my entire body, and when he opened his eyes, my head was free of pain and I was entirely awakened.

"Hannon lle," I whispered, staring up at him again. He still had not removed his hands from my temple, and the contact made my head spin.

He smiled, his grin slow and seductive. I took a wavering breath to still my pulse, but it did little good.

Then, after a few moments of heart-racing, inexplicable emotion, he pulled away, and moved so that he sat cross legged before me.

"Where did you learn to heal?" I asked, genuinely curious as I usually was about him.

"Mirkwood is considered to be the capital of healing, meleth. It was not as though I had a choice," he replied, laughing. He did not appear to have noticed that I had frozen in shock.

"Mirkwood?" I squeaked. He noticed my unmoving form once I had spoken.

"Yes," he replied, quietly. He looked down for a moment, plucking a blade of dead grass from the earth. "I am sorry, Calahdra. It is too easy to be honest around you. I am not sure why I can not better guard my tongue in your presence,"

"Then don't," I said simply, "It is not as though I would tell your secrets to anyone. I have no interest in gossip or rumor,"

Legolas laughed again, and his carefree disposition stunned me. This elf was so gentle and good-natured. It surprised me at how little it took to make him smile. "That is an easy enough solution. Why didn't I think of that?"

"But come now, Calahdra," he said, lowering his voice and glancing up at me, "We both know of military etiquette. It is not as easy as that,"

I looked down, feeling as though I had been chastised.

"It is not that I do not trust you, Calahdra. No, in fact I think you to be one of the most trustworthy people I have ever met. But life is more complicated than a matter of trust,"

I nodded, glad of his clarification. And it was true. There were many things I could not tell him all though I trusted him above almost any person I had met. Of course, I could not pin-point the reason why, for by most rights he was still a stranger to me. But I did trust him, more than I thought I'd ever be able to trust any man.

"But yes," he continued, something that sounded like pain in his voice, "Mirkwood was my home,"

"You miss it," I stated

"So much," he whispered.

"Tell me why," I said, hoping to not only tear the growing frown from his face, but also to learn more about him.

"Because it is my home. Is there any better reason? It is the place where I grew, the place where I loved and learned and laughed. Where I took my first steps and first learned to swim. It is all that I hold dear, Calahdra. And I fear that I have lost it,"

I looked at him squarely, and with courage I did not know I possessed, I put a finger beneath his chin and brought his eyes to mine.

"You have not lost it, Legolas. If you can speak of it with love so plain in your voice, than you will never lose it. It is here," I said, jabbing his chest with a forefinger, "And it shall always be there,"

Legolas was quiet, and he gazed at me with enough force to have made a young child weep. But I held fast, still clinging to my previous burst of courage.

For once, he looked away first, and I watched as his head dipped before me.

"You are right," he murmured, now braiding a few strands of grass. He looked up at me, a smile in his eyes. "You usually are,"

I smiled back, and looked down at my own hands.

"You weren't at dinner," I said.

"No, I wasn't," he said, a question in his voice. A blush spread over my neck and ears.

"You said you would be,"

Legolas' stare was burning a hole into the side of my face. I bit my lower lip, running my tongue over the chapped ridges and craters on it.

"Calahdra, I'm sorry, but I was busy. Aragorn and Mithrandir needed my help, and supper was not at he top of my list of priorities," he explained, honest yet still perplexed.

I continued to stare at the ground. This time, his fingers lifted my face to his. "You missed me,"

I was beginning to become quite interested in the fact that we rarely spoke in questions. Our inquiries about each other were almost always statements of fact.

I nodded. "I...I enjoy your company very much. I had been looking forward to it,"

Legolas gave me a soft grin, and as he clasped his hands to either side of my face, his thumbs stroked my hair. "I enjoy your company as well, Calahdra. I meant you no harm by not attending supper. I was not under the impression that you returned the amiable feelings I had for you, and therefore I accepted my friend's requests for help without question,"

"You...you did not think I enjoyed your company?" I asked, incredulous.

"Well, no," he said, confusion shading his eyes. He pulled his hands away, and went back to braiding the grass in his lap. "I knew that you did, but I assumed that considering how pretty you are and as friendly as you seemed to me, that you would surely have other friends you would have preferred to dine with,"

I was taken aback. "Legolas, in all honesty, I have no friends here at all. At least, none within the court," I looked down as he looked to me, and shedding my feelings of embarrassment, I continued. "If I had my way, I would spend dinner with any number of my friends within the city. Truly, the city-folk of Edoras are my greatest companions. But my duty is to my King, and therefore I must represent him at suppertimes,"

"That doesn't seem fair to me, considering the King pays you so little attention,"

"Exactly,"

Legolas gave me a gentle look. "Have you spoken about this to anyone? I'm sure that the King would excuse you if you asked him now,"

I shook my head. "I feel that it is too late now. After two months of such a thing, a request such as that would not be smiled upon,"

"Are you really so unpopular within the court?" he asked.

"No, not unpopular. Just...unlooked for," I said, now braiding my own segment of grass. "A true Shieldmaiden has not been seen in Meduseld for over seventy years, and so my duties, and the traditions behind them, have been forgotten. And so I am seen more as a figurehead, but an unnecessary figurehead at that, and so I am neglected,"

Legolas shook his head. "It seems nonsensical to me," and I nodded in agreement.

"Truly, my purpose is to fight. And when the time comes, I will do just that,"

Legolas stopped, cocked his head, and looked at me intently. "Are you sure that that is all you are meant for? Are you sure that is how you wish to spend your life?"

I was caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. "That is my purpose. It is what I am meant for,"

Legolas shook his head. "No, it is not. Even from what little I know of you, Calahdra, I know that you are worth more than that. No matter how great a warrior you may be, or how valiant you are, I do not believe that you should so rashly throw your life away,"

I shook my head. "It is my duty. It is what I am meant for," I repeated, but the conviction in my voice was lacking.

Legolas took a deep breath, clearly troubled by my words, but he let the subject go.

At that time, Meleare strode up to the fence we were sitting next to and huffed at me. Legolas looked up at her.

"Mae govannen," he said, spirit high in his voice. Mel snorted back in greeting.

I rose and patted Mel's forelock. "Sut naa lle, Meleare?"

"Is she yours?" Legolas asked, as he rose beside me.

"Yes, she is," I said, smiling at my bay mare.

_"Who is this?"_ she asked, _"He shines like you, Cal. Almost brighter,"_

I nodded, _"He is of my kin. His name is Legolas,"_

_"May I speak to him?"_ she asked, rolling a dark eye towards the tall elf.

_"I think so. But gently, Mel. He does not know of your knowledge of mind-speak,"_

I watched the two for a moment, and I saw Legolas' eyes widen in surprise. After a moment or so, Legolas looked to me.

"How long has she been able to do this?"

"Ever since I began speaking to her,"

"Speaking to her, as in, mind-speak?"

I nodded solemnly.

"Calahdra, you realize....,"

"Yes, I realize the consequences of such a gift. Trust me, Legolas. I know,"

Legolas stared at me for a moment more, and then turned back to Meleare.

"Regardless, she is beautiful," he said, and combed her mane with gentle fingers.

Quiet moments passed, moments in which had he not been so preoccupied with Meleare, I was sure he could have heard the increasing tempo of my heart. But as he looked at her, clearly participating in some sort of discussion with her, the air abut us charged with energy once more.

"Who taught you how to control your ability to mind-speak?" Legolas asked as he patted Mel's nose, his voice low.

"Myself," I responded, my own voice equally as menacing.

Legolas must have decided to let the subject drop entirely, for he silenced himself and turned back to Meleare.

I understood where his apprehension stemmed from. Mind-speak was certainly convenient, but in the hands of a sorcerer or great practitioner of such powers, it was a terrible weapon. I myself had kept it a secret, save telling my mother, who had a weaker version of the power in that she could merely sense the emotions a person was exhibiting and manipulate the tone of their thoughts. My mother had given me a brief overview of how to control such a gift, but beyond that, I had learned the ins and outs of it in books and tomes.

Legolas suddenly stepped much closer to me, stroking the other side of Meleare's face. His increasingly close proximity to me was causing my heart to do violent things within my chest.

"She's gorgeous," he murmured. I watched his eyes, glittering with specks of gold and silver reflecting from the clouds above us. The sight took my breath away.

"I know," I managed, stepping closer to the fence, reaching out to Mel's nose. My hand seemed to waver between Meleare and Legolas, and I knew deep within myself who I would rather be touching.

Just as I stretched forward, Legolas turned to me, placing my side against my chest. The sudden contact shocked me to a point of stillness, but before I could move away, Legolas drew an arm around my waist and turned me so that I was facing him. His touch sent trembles through my legs and a fiery heat into my chest.

"I was speaking to Meleare, lirimaer," he whispered. He was so close to me, so incredibly close. He was everywhere, in my thoughts, in my dreams, and now his body seemed to engulf me.

"You were?" my voice was so soft, nearly unintelligible.

Legolas nodded, a flame visible in his eyes. Gently, he took my left hand in his, and his fingers grazed my wrist for a moment. When he took them away I looked down at my arm. Wrapped about my wrist was an intricate and beautiful braid of sweet grass.

My heart expanded ten sizes in that moment, but a hand of steel encircled my throat, and something in my head sounded out against this. I stepped away, giving Legolas a coy, but entirely fake smile.

"Master elf, you would do better to watch your tongue. This gorgeous lady has a sword and a set of knives," I warned him, my voice halfway between seriousness and playful banter.

Legolas' eyes widened for but a second, clearly not expecting this sudden turn of events, but he smiled back after a moment.

"Very well, arwenamin,"

"Will I see you at supper this night?" I asked.

Legolas shook his head apologetically. "My assistance is necessary once more," he explained. Part of me withered with news, but I accepted it with grace, steeling my heart once more.

"Then I hope to see you tomorrow," I said.

Legolas gave me a speculative look, but nodded once. "Very well Calahdra. Namaarie,"

"Namaarie," I returned, formally, and turned swiftly. 

  
Once again, I sought refuge in my quarters.

 

 

Supper passed with a sluggish pace. And once again I spent my night on the cliffs behind Meduseld. Once again, Legolas' voice, his face, his touch was the one thing that kept me from falling from that height. His promise of tomorrow was the one thing that seemed worth waking up for.


	7. Drowning

The people of Rohan had long steeled themselves against the deaths of their leaders. The death of a King or Queen was grieved for a while, but almost always their son or daughter would take over the thrown soon afterwards and the power of Rohan would be renewed.

The death of a Prince, however, was nigh impossible to bear. With no true heir to take over the thrown and an aging King still in power, the loss of a Prince or Princess was beyond heartbreaking.

And when Theodred, son of Theoden, was pronounced dead, a gloom settled over Edoras that seemed obstinate and irrepressible.

My day was spent tending to the necessary arrangements for his funeral. Food was ordered, linens cleaned. Meduseld was to be immaculate for the ceremony, and an ornate byre was needed to place the body on.

On top of all that, Theoden himself popped in and out of the main hall, and when he was not surveying the funeral preparations, he was holding secret meetings in his private quarters. The stress of an occasional glimpse of the king always interrupted the work being done within the hall, and I found it difficult to manage all of the chores that needed to be completed and those tending to them.

As far as the pecking order of maids within Meduseld went, Eowyn was by far the top. I myself came in second, and yet never once did Eowyn and I come in contact. Never once had she ever attempted to speak to me personally and always sent me instructions and inquiries through messenger boys and vague notes.

With the hustle of a funeral a day away, the occasional glance of the king I had failed, and the looming thought of Legolas in my mind, I was left exhausted by the end of the day.

Eventually Miriam, the head maid in Meduseld, dismissed me, telling me I looked dead on my feet.

About mid-afternoon I retreated to my quarters for a much deserved nap. A few hours later, and three hours before supper, I went to the target range for a bit of practice.

 

 

 

With my recent nap having refreshed my mind, I found my aim to be much improved. I simply visualized my arrow going where I wished it to, and I never missed a single shot in the entire hour I spent there.

I noticed Legolas' presence after a time, but did not turn to him nor did I greet him. My focus was at its peak and I refused to let it slip.

After twenty minutes or so, I began to tire, and so I let my bow rest against my foot and I turned to Legolas, who sat perched upon a fence post behind me.

"Mae govannen, Legolas," I said, as I slipped my bow into its leather case.

"Mae govannen, Aieriel," he returned, but he seemed quite distracted. He had an apple in his hand, and he seemed to be gnawing at it absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking of?" I asked him, head cocked to the side and my elbow propped against my longbow.

He looked at me for a moment, seeming to weigh his response as he usually did. "You," he responded simply, seeming incredibly unabashed by it.

"Are you?" I asked in return, attempting to disguise my shock with nonchalance.

"Yes,"

I stared at him, my eyes the ones piercing and deep this time. "And what about me are you thinking of?"

Legolas leapt down from his perch, discarding the remainder of his apple, and came to me. "The way I feel about you," his voice had gone all quiet, his eyes all gentle and absorbent. My eyebrows arched of their on accord at the sight of such beauty and honesty.

"And how do you feel about me?" my own voice beginning to sound tragically feminine.

"I don't know," he answered, and his fingers reached forward to push a stray bit of hair behind my ear. I let him touch me without protest, for his gentle fingers pushed back the qualms deep within me.

"Sometimes I think that you...that you would never return the feelings I think I have for you. Sometimes I think that I could never be what you need. That I would never be able to fix you,"

"Fix me?" I protested indignantly, my voice raising.

"Shhh," he murmured, and his hand moved to cup my cheek, "I know how proud you are, Calahdra. I know how much you wish to refuse that you sometimes feel the way you do. But I can see past the bravery, meleth, and I want so much to help you,"

I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced me, and I lowered my eyes.

I noticed his hand at my side, and the sudden impulse to wrap my fingers in his engulfed me. I pulled my hand away just a little when a very foreign thought came to me.

How much would holding his hand truly hurt me?

And so I took his hand in mine, and he looked at me with curiosity.

I brought our entangled hands up and rested them against his chest. The passionate look in his eyes was entrancing, much like the gaze of snake preying upon a young bird. But the warning that had alarmed me the day before sounded out again, turning my breath to flame and heart to lead.

"I'm no good at this, Legolas," I said, and I let his hand go. I stepped away and brushed my hair behind my ears, my fingers slowing as they touched the gentle pointed tips that marked me for what I was.

Legolas watched me, clearly perplexed.

"This...," I began, staring at his feet, "this doesn't feel right, Legolas. I can't....I can't do this,"

Legolas stepped towards me, as if to embrace me, but I stepped back, my hands raised as if to fend him off.

"Legolas, I can't do this," I repeated, and I looked up at his eyes. I wished I hadn't, for the hurt there was far more than I could bear. My resolve faltered just long enough for him to come to me and wrap his arms around me, press his face into my neck, and murmur my name at least twice.

I began to cry.

I had never cried in front of anyone, not even my own mother. And yet with Legolas all about me, and the feeling of safety blossoming within my chest, my tears did not shame me.

I could not truly explain the way I felt, the mixture of pain, anguish, and hope suddenly battling within me. All I had known suddenly seemed to have been turned on end, and the elf holding me now seemed to be the cause of it.

Did it matter, though, that I had only known this person for three days? No, not truly. Did it matter that any possible future with this elf was sure to result in pain or death. No, not in that moment.

All I knew, all that I seemed able to think of was that the one thing I had been wishing for, and that was a pair of arms to hold me and a shoulder on which I could rest my head, was suddenly available. Nothing else even came close to the importance of that.

Legolas pulled away for a moment, and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, my voice shaking with the sobs I was attempting to conceal.

"There is nothing that you need to apologize for," he murmured, shaking his head. A few strands of his corn-silk hair brushed against my face, and I smiled a little. "There, that is what I wish to see," he said, smiling back.

I glanced up at the darkening sky. "Legolas, I must go,"

He nodded and brushed the last tear from the corner of my eye.

"Calahdra, you'll be happy to know that I will be at supper tonight,"

I couldn't stop my face from lighting up.

Legolas beamed back, and before I could stop him, he had pressed his lips to mine. It was a quick kiss, not meant to be romantic or passionate, but I could tell that Legolas had not been able to resist any longer. I smiled a little at him, and brought a hand to my lips. I could feel a blush spreading over my entire body.

I had never felt this way before. So free, and yet with so much reason for alarm. I knew that there were multiple paths our relationship could lead, and all seemed equally likely. Our feelings for each other had been rushed, and I knew that that in itself was cause enough to doubt our relationship going anywhere. And with a war about and us both being fighters, either one of us could perish.

Did I want to risk the pain I would feel if I ever lost him? If he realized he was making a mistake, or if war stole him from me as I was sure it would, would I be strong enough to stand it?

But did those questions truly matter? I was not so sure that doubting my actions would change anything, for it was clear enough now that there would be no turning back. A polite smile and a gentle dismissal could not rid me of him now; he had sewn himself too tightly within my heart, and I wasn't sure I would be able to part from him now.

I was in this for the long haul, no matter how long or how short it might be. And I knew quite well that I was in far over my head.

Perhaps the saying "drowning in love" wasn't so far off base.


	8. Admissions

I dressed in my pale silk gown once more. Impressing Legolas did not seem so important anymore. It seemed to me that I had already won him over; what more could I gain by looking well? But nonetheless, the drastic difference between this gown and my normal garb seemed quite incredible. I hoped that he would think the same. 

Before I left for Meduseld, I had sat before my mirror and stared at myself intently. I wondered what it was he saw in me. I wondered why he thought I was lovely. The reflection before me did not seem lovely. In all honesty, it seemed plain. I was fit, sure, but my willowy frame was almost shapeless. I had so few curves; how could he possibly find me attractive?

The only interesting feature I possessed was my eyes, and even those were boring. They were quite expressive, certainly, but they were a drab, depressing grey that looked much like the underside of a thunderhead.

It took me a while to realize how vain I sounded, thinking such things, and scrutinizing my appearance so cruelly. Regardless of how I looked, Legolas surely had seen something more _within_ me. Something about my personality must have captured his interest, for he seemed to kind to woo a young woman simply for her favors.

At least, I hoped that was the case.

I had assumed that the warning that sometimes arouse within me when I was around him had been caused by my naturally cautious intuition.

I guffawed at my mental sarcasm. I was anything but cautious. In fact, it was my rashness that had landed me in this situation.

I knew what it was that had cried out against the look in his eyes I sometimes thought I saw, or the way he sometimes touched me. It was the part of me that would never recover from what had been done to me. The piece of me that was trapped within a memory I would rather forget.

I shook my head, desperate to enjoy this night and not become stuck within such desolate thoughts as I had the two previous nights.

I was not sure I could survive another night like the last.

 

 

 

At first, he seemed to be missing once more, but I caught sight of his golden hair in the shadows of the pillars, his back turned to me as he spoke with Gimli, the dwarf. I began to walk to him, feeling drawn to him even when he had not noticed me, when a hand caught my shoulder.

"My lady," a soldier grunted at me, his rough hand tight on my slim shoulder, "have we met before?"

"I think not," I responded, "Excuse me, please," I stepped away from him, intent on Legolas.

"No, miss. No, I think not," he barked, grabbing me once again. "I haven't seen you here before. Are you sure you're not lost? I might help you find a place to sleep tonight. Or is you're coiffeur filled with some other man's gold this night?" Several soldiers behind him laughed, and the man laughed as well, his eyes lewd and intense. I stared him in the eye, unafraid.

"No, sir. No, I think it best that you find some other whore. Someone pathetic enough to accept what little you can offer,"

The man and his friends went silent. I stared at him for a few seconds more, my gaze cruel, and then walked away.

By then, Legolas was striding purposefully towards me. His eyes caught mine and I stopped before him.

"Calahdra, are those nadorhuanrim insulting you?" (cowards) he hissed, his voice laced with anger. His eyes shimmered passionately in the dim light of Meduseld, and the sight nearly broke my resolve.

"They were, heruamin, but they will not bother me anymore," I said, trying to pass some calm to him through my voice. I watched him for a moment, and he seemed to be swaying between staying with me and confronting the men behind me, who were silent as they watched him warily.

I feared what might happen should he go to them, and so I settled on leading him back to supper. Gently, I rested my hand over is, which was clamped to his thigh. I turned it over, and took it into mine. "Come, heruamin. You must be hungry," I pleaded, voice low and comforting.

He gave my hand a quick squeeze and smiled at me, although his eyes had lost none of their potency. "Very well, lirimaer," And he turned back towards the long rows of benches and tables where dinner was being served, pulling me with him.

The blush painting my cheeks was almost painfully hot.

"Legolas?" I asked, feeling small. Small and young.

"Yes, Aieriel?" he said, turning back to me for a moment, before sitting down at a table. I sat beside him, spreading my skirts about me chastely.

"Why...why did you do that?"

"What? Call you lovely? Because you are, dear," he said, a smile in his eyes.

I shook my head, my blush renewed. "No, Legolas. Why did what those men say anger you so? Why were you...standing up for me?"

He gave me an odd look, as if he couldn't understand what I was saying, and then looked up as a maid served us both a platter of food. He thanked her and turned back to me.

"I was angry because you are no common street-girl, who plays in the beds of lesser men, Calahdra. You are an elf-maiden, and whether they can see it or not, you deserve to be treated as such," he explained.

I nodded, looking at my hands lying loosely in my lap. "Yes, you're right,"

A sturdy finger lifted up my chin. "Have faith, Calahdra. You are not alone. Elves look after their kin above all else,"

I smiled and tilted my head, my chin pivoting on his forefinger. "I have a more human in me, though. Does that not bother you at all?"

He shook his head. "The elf in you shines through. And you speak like one as well. Tell me, how did you learn elvish?" he asked. I saw that he had planned this statement beforehand, obviously curious about me.

I laughed a little, smiling radiantly at him. "Very well, master Legolas. I shall tell you about myself while you enjoy the hospitality of our kitchens," He nodded in earnest, and shoveled a bit of stew into his mouth.

I thought for a moment, trying to determine where to begin. I would not tell him everything, of course, although some part of me yearned to, but I would tell him more than I would most. I decided then that it is usually best to begin at the start.

"I was born in Fenmarch, which is twenty leagues southeast of here. I am the youngest daughter of three children, for I have two older brothers who are both Rohirrim. Huor and Lenwe are their names, which many in my father's fief rue, for their names are clearly not Rohirric. But my mother always prided herself in choosing such fine, elvish names for her sons. As for me, I was born three years after Lenwe and six after Huor, and she claimed to have "run out of inspiration". She named me Calahdra, thus, for in Rohirric it means "dusk" and that was the time of day in which I was born. Medlinniel is elvish for honey, so at least I have a bit of true elf in my name.

"But as it was, she grew us up straight and proper until the day my father set out for war. He left when I was seven, and those are the years in which most children stray from home anyways. And so I did.

"I was ever entranced by nature, by climbing tress and swimming in springs. Riding horses and pressing flowers. Those were my true passions as a child. And it marked me as different from the other children. But I did not mind, for their games and antics interested me little.

"I grew slowly, and when I was ten, I asked my mother what it was that made me so obviously different from the other children. She told me then that I was a quarter elvish.

"I think perhaps she expected it to be a shock to me, but it truly did not. When I wasn't trekking through the forest, I was reading books along the way, and I knew enough of history and legends to know what elves were. And the similarities were all there; the affinity with nature, the slow growth. I was never sick as a child, and my injuries healed quick and rarely left scars. And so I became obsessed with elvish culture.

"I begged for my mother to teach me elvish, and she agreed. But as soon as she began speaking in the elvish tongue, I picked it up at once. It was as if the language had been living inside of me, just waiting to emerge. I began talking in it once, using words I had never heard before. In those days, I truly became engrossed in the power of the Valar, and I was convinced that they had blessed me."

I paused then, curious as to how my tale was affecting Legolas. He had slowed in his eating, and was looking at me with a powerful curiosity. I took a deep breath, for the fire in his eyes caused me to gasp for air. He gave me a quick smile, and nodded at me to go on. I licked my lips and went back to my story.

"My quest for spirituality led me down many paths. But eventually, I came to the conclusion that the Valar have blessed us all with their grace, their life, their eternal love and adoration. There is no point in worshipping someone who loves you already, and so I settled for minimalistic devotion."

At this point, he had stopped eating entirely, truly engrossed in my tale. Slowly, I pulled a chain from around my neck laid the charm that hung on it in my hand.

"This is the only gift my mother ever gave to me. She told me it was made of mithril, and shaped in the form of one of the leaves of the trees of Valinor. I could never verify it, but in my heart I value it more than anything it could be worth."

Legolas picked it out of my hand, his fingers nimble as he examined it for a few minutes. He spoke with reverence after hanging the chain back around my neck. "She was right, Calahdra. It is a princely gift, and costly at that, but it is beautiful and well crafted, and that is what is truly unique about it,"

I nodded, tucking the charm back into my bodice. I noticed the way his eyes trailed after my fingers. I smiled a little.

"I find it amusing, Legolas, that you consider me lovely. Many men here are not attracted to my form. Or lack there of," I added.

Legolas looked up at me, his eyes twinkling, but calm and gentlemanly once more. "I told you, lirimaer, you are jewel hidden among these people. Among elves, you would be a treasure. Graceful forms such as yours are revered amongst my people," He turned back to his meal. I stared for a moment, letting the blush fade from my cheeks, and then turned to eat my own supper.

Several spoonfuls of stew later, I turned to him.

"Now it's your turn," I prompted, looking hopeful. Legolas chuckled at me.

"Oh no, little one. That story would keep you up far past your bed time. Besides, haven't I told you enough about me to keep you satisfied for just a little longer?"

I pouted for a moment, and then smiled back at him, ignoring his latter question "That didn't sound necessarily like a no,"

Legolas smiled back and reached out to touch the tip of his finger to my nose. "If I told you all about me, then what reason would you have for speaking to me? I was under the impression that women were enticed by mystery,"

I stared at him, my body unmoving. I could not seem to formulate words, for through his casual touch came a shock of heat and adrenaline I could not tolerate. And though he had touched me in more sensual ways than this, the feeling was stronger than ever.

Perhaps he did care for me. Perhaps all his words earlier that afternoon had been true and all of my concerns had been petty and pointless. Perhaps he felt the same inexplicable connection to me that I had to him. Or perhaps my anxiety was valid, and he was like every other man I had met, except more cunning.

That was a thought that I could not comprehend. It was something I refused to accept.

Slowly, his smile turned to a frown, and he moved his finger from my nose to cup his palm around my cheek. Without thinking, I leaned into the touch, finding the support of his warm hand comforting. "What troubles you, Aieriel? Tell me, for I may be able to help you find some peace,"

His voice was soft, like warm liquor, and just as enticing. My lips parted with a small noise, and he smiled.

"I've only known you for but a few days," I whispered, my eyes tracing his every feature, "and yet you seem...precious to me. I cannot understand this, and yet it seems...natural. Easy," I admitted, feeling heat on my back and ears.

He said nothing, which perhaps was worse than him laughing at me. He stared at me once more, his eyes penetrating mine. The silence wore on, and after a while, I felt my face collapse with doubt.

"You do not feel the same way, do you?" I asked, my voice breaking with shame. I had seemed to have trapped myself in an immense quagmire.

His calm eyes were awakened, and he brought his hand back to his lap.

"No, Calahdra, I feel that way as well. But...my heart confuses me. Never have I fallen for someone so quickly. Never have I felt this way before. And you are so young, lirimaer. So young and tender and pure. I feel as though I must protect you. As though I must heal you. I wish to hold you. To keep you whole. And yet I cannot do this, not when all my life love has seemed unobtainable to me," he explained.

I nodded. "It feels much the same for me. I feel as though I am being pulled towards you. As though my fate is entwined in yours. But this seems so odd to me. And yet...," I paused, looking down at my hands, which were wrapped in the periwinkle tones of my dress. I looked up at him, wishing to pull the encouragement from his eyes.

"Yes?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"And yet I think I have fallen in love with you,"


	9. Answers

A weight seemed to have fallen from my chest with the admission. And suddenly staring at him, telling him these things seemed to be the most natural thing in the world. The heat disappeared, and all I could feel was adoration for this man. This man whom I barely knew.

But the apprehension was still there. I knew in my heart that there was a large difference between amiable compassion and love, and I could have ruined any chance of being with him by revealing myself so suddenly.

But his eyes warmed, and a brilliant smile lit up his face. "I, too, am very much in love with you,"

I beamed back, and I reached out to stroke his fingers. Legolas flipped his hand over, and held his palm against mine for a moment before encompassing my hand with his own. His fingers caressed the sensitive skin on my palm, and the sensual patterns he etched on my hand made the tips of my elven ears burn with excitement and delight. Somewhere within my lower stomach, a bit of me was beginning to burn for this man.

As my eyes flickered about his face, he held my hands tightly, his eyes never leaving mine. Slowly, he pulled back, and smiled sensually.

"You are doing strange things to me, Aieriel. I think that perhaps I should take my leave, or else you might cause me to bring great harm to you," he said, his voice playful and light, yet his eyes impassioned and serious.

"I do not fear you, Master Elf. I do not think that you could bring harm to one as fierce as me," I parried, my tingling skin making me bold.

Legolas smiled, but is eyes were losing their depth, obviously cooling after the curious moment between us. He bent towards me, and his lips brushed my ear, causing it to burst into flames once more. "I believe otherwise,"

I blushed quickly and thoroughly, and Legolas smiled as he felt the warmth run icy-hot through my veins. My thoughts were slow it seemed, and the concept of lust was hard for me to grasp in the moment. So instead of trying to say something witty and enticing, I blundered through my racing thoughts and threw the first question I could think of at him.

"How is it that you seem so sure I am a virgin?"

Legolas laughed, his face bright and flush with merriment. "Because I can tell, lirimaer. The way that my touch excites you," and he emphasized the point by laying the back of his hand against my brow, "is a sure sign that you have not been touched this way before. Of course I could be wrong, but I am rarely wrong,"

I was silent. For reasons that I could not put to words, his words had stilled me. I felt chill suddenly, and the blush fell from my cheeks. I looked away, and pulled my hands from his, letting them lay limp on my lap.

"Calahdra? Am I wrong? Tell me, sweet," Legolas said gently, his hands going to the sides of my face.

I looked to him, my entire heart seeming to break in his hands. If I told him the truth, I would surely shatter.

But my lips parted of their own accord, and the long stilled memories broke into my thoughts. The tears immediately fell from my eyes, and the sounds my breath was making were frightening at the least. How was it that this elf could so easily pull tears from my eyes? How could it feel so very right to wish to tell him the truth?

"My brothers, Legolas, were very cruel to me. I fear that their taunting and jests may have spoiled me, for the pleasure I might have had seems lessened now," I explained, feeling the thousand scars rip open as I spoke this aloud.

Legolas at once pulled me to his chest, dragging my limp body into his lap and cloaking me from the outside with his chest and arms. I sobbed into his tunic, feeling shame pour forth from me like molten rock.

"Calahdra, look at me," he whispered, after my violent quaking seemed to gentle. I looked at him, my tears pathetically marring his perfect face. "Let us find some place where I might hold you, and where you can tell your story in private. Is there such a place?"

I nodded. "My room is the only haven I have, but I hope you will not think ill of me to invite you there,"

Legolas shook his head. "No my love, you are no harlot. You are a kind and pure elf maiden, and I love you," he murmured against my hair.

I led him to my room as I walked wearily beside him. As soon as we escaped Meduseld, Legolas lifted me into his arms and carried me, and I pressed my face to his chest, breathing in his scent.

I loved this man, and that was plain. But how I had fallen so far so quickly was a mystery. And whether this love could last over pain, over war, over all that I felt I needed to tell him, I could not foresee.

I had thought these things before. How many times must they run through my head before I realized that rationalizing my actions was futile?

But in this moment, his touch and his voice were all I needed.

He set my on feet once we were outside my room, which was located in Meduseld's guest quarters. I pulled my key out from the sash around my waist and opened the door, revealing my quaint bedroom. Inside was little more then a full bed, a dressing desk, and a chest. Beside my bed rested an assortment of weapons and items meant for tending Meleare, and a small lyre laid beside those. My bed linens were plain and tan, but a single embroidered pillow stood out from the drab duvet and pillows. It was bright blue, shaped like a heart, and it read "Calahdra Medlinniel", with a running horse depicted beneath the elegant script.

By now, I had calmed somewhat, and my spirits rose as he surveyed my room.

"Your room is well kept, Aieriel," Legolas commented, placing a hand on my shoulder as I stepped inside. I stopped and turned to the side, inviting him in. He walked over to my lyre lithely, and knelt before it, brushing his hand against its case. "Do you play well?" he asked.

"I have been told so. I've played since I was four, and leaving my harp at home nearly broke my heart," I explained as I closed my door, locking it behind me.

He stood once more, and stopped before my stash of weapons. My sword, shield, bow, quiver and arrows, and knives rested there. The sight seemed to confuse him.

"You knew I was a Shieldmaiden, Legolas. What did you expect?" I asked, coming up behind him to rest my arm around his waist.

"I'm not sure, Calahdra. But the thought of you in danger is hard for me to bear," he said quietly, placing his hand over mine on his stomach.

"It is hard for me to think of you fighting, also," I admitted.

"I assume you have killed before, love. How does it feel to you?" he asked, growing continually quieter.

I took a breath, and moved to his side, resting my head on his shoulder, staring at my sword as I told him.

"I was twelve when I first killed an orc. My father had taken my brothers and me to the encampment outside of Fenmarch, and a raiding party of orcs came perilously close to the camp. I was outside my father's tent when they attacked, and in the madness of the attack, my father was injured. An orc was about to stab him in the chest when I took up a fallen soldier's knife and slit the creature's throat. I killed seven more that night and thought little of it,

"It wasn't until my father brought the subject up some time later that I gave t much thought. I had been raised in a world where orcs were evil and people did what they had to in order to keep their families alive. But a week later, my father asked me the same question you had. He said "How does it feel, Cal, having taken something's life?" I said nothing then, but when I was alone in my room I sobbed like I have never wept before.

"But after that, killing became easier. Please believe that I am not heartless. The fact that I am robbing a creature's life and future certainly weighs on me after I have killed. But this is the world I live in and the life I have chosen. I cannot allow myself to  
grow weak with false empathy or desolate with self loathing," I looked up at him for reassurance. He was looking out my window, a stern expression on his face.

"I understand, Calahdra. I feel similarly. Killing is hard, but in darkness and peril, and when it is a necessity, you do yourself no good by breaking your heart over it,"

I nodded, and pressed my head to his shoulder once more.

"Does this feel strange to you?" I asked nervously, "Do you feel as if we have rushed into this too fast?"

"A little, love. But considering we both feel this way, yet we both agree that our feelings for each other can't be denied, I see no reason why we cannot try to make this work,"

"I agree,"

Legolas looked down at me, and smiled brightly.

"You smile a lot," I commented, smiling back.

"I have only ever smiled so much when I am with you," he responded, and my heart once more did loops in my chest. But a sense of despair slowly took hold of me as I stood beside Legolas. The ache in my heart began once more, and Legolas seemed to feel it at once.

Legolas laid me on my bed while he lit several lamps. I attempted to calm my ragged breathing while he did so, but the mere thought that a man was truly in room was doing impressive things to my heart.

He returned to the bed, and in his hand was my comb. "May I?" he asked. I nodded, and sat. He crawled towards me, and my stomach nearly fell out of my chest as he did so, and he then sat behind me. At first, I leaned forward, but Legolas' hands slowly encircled my waist and he pulled me back, so that I was leaning against his firm chest. He pulled my hair back over my shoulders, and began to sweep through the waves and curls with gentle strokes.

"Tell me, Calahdra. How is it that you have such beautiful hair? How do you care for it so that it is so radiant and tame?"

I grinned. He was so good at distracting me. "You might think it odd, if I tell you. But if you wish to know, then so be it," I explained. "We women of Rohan use horse sweat to keep our hair healthy. It is a tedious process, collecting the sweat, and some that are not accustomed to our heritage find it revolting. But horse sweat contains properties that shut out the dirt and grease from its coat and skin, and the same affect on a person's hair keeps it soft and protected,"

Legolas nodded. "I do not find that revolting. I think it logical. Elves use herbs and such to wash our hair, and our affinity with plants is much like the people of Rohan's affinity with horses,"

I nodded. "I combine the horse sweat, or cathril, as we call it, with sage and lemongrass, as well as milk sometimes. I enjoy keeping my hair beautiful. It is the one part of me that distinguishes me as different from those of Rohan. It marks me as an elf maiden, and of that I am proud,"

"I am glad, also," he murmured, a smile in his voice. But his statement was left trailing off, and I felt as though he meant something else. He stopped combing, and I turned to him just as his hands bent to my waist. "Calahdra, you should know how I truly feel. You should know how deep my love for you seems to flow. But you should know other things about me, other sides of me, first. If you do not mind, I think that this night would be well spent if we talked. If we caught up on the conversation we have seemed to have skipped,"

I nodded. I knew how he felt.

Legolas moved a little, and pulled me along side him as he stuffed pillows up against the wall. We rested against them while angled towards each other, and Legolas kept a firm grip on my hands as we faced each other.

"Now, I know that you told me much about yourself, love, but I feel that you left out some parts that you may wish to tell me of. First, let me tell you about myself, and I will spare you no details unless you wish otherwise," he left this statement open for comment, and I thought for a moment before responding.

"You are right in that I have more to tell you, but I fear these things, for you may change your thoughts of me should you hear them. But as for your life story, do not feel that you must tell me everything. I trust you, Legolas, although I find it strange in some part of my heart, and I would not have you feel embarrassed if you told me something you did not wish too,"

Legolas smiled once more. It seemed that his grin would forever warm my heart.

"I am a lucky elf indeed, to have been granted you, my love. You are truly a treasure, Calahdra," He reached out and traced my lips with a finger, and I smiled, using my free hand to run my fingers over his silky locks. My finger tip grazed one of his braids, and he held my fingers fast. A sudden look of panic must have passed my face, for he gave me an empathetic look at once.

"I am sorry, Aieriel, but I forget that you are young to this world and not entirely versed in the tradition of elves. It is a taboo of sorts for an elf maiden to touch the braids or ears of a male until she has lain with him. It is an old fashioned rite, I know, but it is hard not to abide by,"

I pulled my hand away at once, feeling embarrassed at my ignorance. "I am sorry, Legolas. I did not wish to dishonor you. I was merely...curious,"

He placed a hand beneath my chin. "You meant no harm by it, I know. And it would not have bothered me if it wasn't for the fact that you are so pure, but...,"

I cut him off, "Why do you keep saying that? What makes you think I am so chaste? And why should it change how you think of me?"

Legolas looked at me for a long while, as if appraising what he might say.

"It is hard to explain, lirimear, but I shall try my best. You see, every person to me has an aura. I have always been sensitive to a person's personality, as many elves are. When I see a person, I immediately associate them with a color, and that color usually represents this person's temperament and history. Bold colors signify bold people, whereas soft colors represent gentle people. Earth tones represent elves, usually, and dark colors represent those associated with evil. Humans and dwarves and all others take up the remaining colors. Pure, chaste women shine in my mind, whereas harlots are dull and worn. But never before have I seen a person shine like you did. When I saw you, I saw the purest silver in all the world. So soft, so untainted. I knew at once that you were young, sweet, and one of the kindest, most pure women in the entire world. I was attracted to you even before you first spoke. And when you did speak, my heart was won,"

I smiled softly, but the hurts were still raw and I looked down. His fingers caught my chin. He looked me very seriously in the eye, and yet through his sternness came a powerful wave of compassion. "Tell me, Calahdra. Tell me and I might better look after you," he coaxed.

I shivered, and tried to look away. The words would not seem to come to my lips. Yet he held me fast, and my tortured eyes met his again.

"Calahdra, I swear not to hurt you. Ever. I promise to you on all that I hold dear that I will never touch you, kiss you, or make love to you without your permission. I will wait until you are ready, even if that is until the undoing of the earth, for all I wish is to be with you," he paused for a moment, and pulled his hand away. I reached for it and he gave to me, though, after several silent seconds of thought.

"I swear this, love. And I swear to you that I will help you mend this hurt. But I cannot do so unless you tell me what it is that has wounded you,"

I nodded gently, my head pounding with pressure and confusion. It seemed that I no longer had a choice.


	10. Bittersweet

"I will tell you, meleth nin, but I fear you will not like the tale I have to tell," I looked up through my eyelashes, expecting something other than the calm courtesy I saw. He squeezed my hand and I looked at our entwined fingers, and the sight stilled my qualms just enough to let the words break through the walls I had built around the memories. 

"When I was nine, I was swimming in a brook nearby my house. I was swimming naked, as always, for I often swam alone, and I did not fear my brothers seeing me, for I was young and innocent and naïve. They came that day, but instead of telling me that my mother needed me or that my chores needed tending too as they often did, Huor stripped off his clothes as well and came to me in the water. I asked him what he was doing, but he said nothing.

 

I swam to the far side of the creek, and reached for my clothes, for I could feel in my heart that something was not right. Lenwe took my clothes from me, and Huor grabbed my waist from behind,"

I stopped, for my breath was suddenly short and Legolas had gone still. I gave his hand a desperate squeeze and his eyes focused on mine. Slowly, my tears boiled over, and he wordlessly pulled me closer to him, so that I was sitting on his lap, cradled against his chest once more.

"Huor told me to lie down in the water, and when I did nothing his hands grew tight about me. Lenwe was looking me over, his eyes resting on me in places that I would have rather hidden, but it was Huor who was scaring me most.

"When he asked again and I refused, he shoved me to the bank of the creek and had Lenwe hold my shoulders to the ground. I struggled, but I was afraid, for Lenwe's knife was at his side. The rocks cut into my back, and I choked on the mud and water, but they would not let me go. Huor bent before me, and.....,"

I stopped, feeling my body shake and stiffen in odd, disjointed rhythms. Legolas began to rock me, and his voice was soft in my ear. "You need not say anymore, if you wish. This is hurting you,"

I nodded, and let my head fall onto his chest.

He stroked my back lovingly, and I felt him swallow, for my head was pressed into his throat and collarbone. I took a deep breath, and the air seemed to burn my throat. I forced myself to speak over the nightmare in my head.

"Aieriel, your tale breaks my heart. To think of the mental suffering you endured...and also the physical pain,"

I nodded grimly, feeling embarrassed, yet relieved, just as I had expected.

"Do not be ashamed," Legolas murmured, pulling my face up to his. Slowly, he smled, a slow gentle grin filled with empathy and adoration.

I smiled back, although my mind seemed to rebel against the action, but my grin was cut short by a yawn.

"Ah," Legolas sighed, "I forget that you need rest, love. I should let you sleep. Tomorrow shall be a long day, I think,"

We were silent for a moment. It was easy to forget that Thoeodred's funeral would take place tomorrow. That the king's son was dead troubled me as it did everyone, but I had not known him well, nor did grieving seem important to me. Rohan's defenses were failing, and a day spent grieving was a day spent sending invitations to the enemy.

Perhaps my pragmatics made me seem cold, but logic saved more lives then sentiment, it seemed to me.

I desperately turned my thoughts back to Legolas.

"Forget?" I asked, "Don't you need rest as well?"

Legolas broke from his reverie, "Not the same kind. Elves do not lose consciousness, love. We instead rest our minds and bodies in a sort of conscious slumber,"

"Can you dream?" I asked. Life without dreams seemed bleak to me, for my dreams were often vivid and entertaining when they were not nightmares.

"Of a sort. We let our minds wander, and imagine things that we have seen before. But often times I let my mind go blank," he explained, and slowly he unfurled his long legs, and shifted out from under me.

I looked at him, unsure of where he was planning on going. I briefly considered the possible complications of him staying with me for the night, but they seemed small to me. I was sure that his presence might calm my mind and give me peace, as he seemed to do while I was awake.

Legolas stood, and smoothed his tunic. The sight of him standing tall and straight gave me butterflies. "Will you not stay?" I asked, hardly able to hide the hope from my voice.

"I am not sure, love. If I do not return to Gimli and Aragorn, what will they think of me?" he asked playfully.

"I am not so sure that it is your honor that you are concerned about, Legolas," I responded, unfurling my legs as well, and straightening my dress. Legolas stared at me, his eyes suddenly catching flame.

"How is it that even your slightest movement can effect me so?" he muttered, sounding distant. I smiled sensually, and stood next to him, placing my hands on his waist.

"I'm sorry, Legolas. I must be making things very difficult for you," I murmured, staring at his jaw.

His hands encircled my waist, and he pressed me a little closer to him. I could feel his muscles rub against my thin gown, and my skin burned in those spots. He brought his lips to my ear, as before.

"I will stay, meleth nin, as long as you promise to behave yourself,"

I smiled, "Hmm, I'll try. But I'm not promising total chastity. I might not be able to help myself should I dream of you,"

"Then know that I will be dreaming of you as well, lirimaer," He leaned in once more, and placed his lips against my neck, slowly caressing my collar with his mouth. I gasped quietly, and tilted my head until my ear rested against his hair.

He moved his mouth in slow circles, moving to my shoulder, where he pulled away the satiny sleeve. He kissed my shoulder softly, and my breathing became shallow.

Never had I felt such pleasure. Such heat seemed impossible. And yet for all the passion, the foremost feeling was comfort. That Legolas was standing over me, encircling me with his strong body, made me feel safe. I felt peaceful, rested, and yet energized.

"Legolas," I whispered, my eyes closing and my hands tightening around his middle. He stopped and straightened, and I opened my eyes. He was looking at me with a strange expression, as if he was apologizing to me.

"It's alright," I coaxed, afraid that he felt he had gone too far.

Legolas smiled, and rubbed a circle into the small of my back. Feeling brave, I reached up to his face, and cradled his prefect cheeks in my hands, my fingers just barely touching his pointed ears. I stood on my toes and stared into his eyes, letting my gaze melt into his. Slowly, I brought my lips to his, and I tilted my head just enough to let his lips fit between mine. I caressed them slowly, enjoying the taste and the feel of him beneath me. When he did not respond, I moved my lips faster, increasing the pressure. He was awakened at once, and his hands moved to my face, pulling me to him so close that our noses brushed against each other.

I wallowed in the pleasure, in the purity of our kiss. I very nearly drowned in happiness, and would have fallen to my knees if Legolas had not been holding me up.  
It was as if I was being healed, as if all the hurts I had felt were being peeled away.

I loved this man with all my being and my heart would forever be his.

Legolas pulled away first. His eyes were bright and bold, filled with a mix of longing and satisfaction that warmed my heart, as well as other places within me. "Did we not agree that you should sleep?"

"Only if you will stay with me," I said.

"Very well," Legolas said with a chuckle, "I will stay, little one,"

I beamed at him, and kissed the tip of his nose before turning to my dressing desk. I filled the wash basin on it with water from a pitcher. I washed my face, and watched Legolas' reflection near me.

"You have wonderful skin, my dear," he noted.

I laughed a little. "I try,"

I continued to scrub at my face. I then combed my hair once more, followed by a careful scrubbing of my teeth with a soft rag and some peppermint. When I felt sufficiently clean, I turned around and stood before Legolas.

"I have to change out of this dress, love. How offended would you be if you saw a hint of skin?"

"Not offended at all," he replied.

I went to my chest, which lay at the foot of my bed, and pulled out a night-shirt.

"Most respectable women wear nightgowns to bed, but I find all of those ruffles quite uncomfortable. I hope you aren't insulted by my plain sense of style," I said casually, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. I could feel how hard he was trying to hide his excitement even a few feet from him. And I suddenly realized something that teased my curiosity. The night shirt fell from my hands.

"Legolas, how long have you been travelling?"

He came to me, and took my hands. "You are beginning to realize how little you know about me, aren't you?" his voice was wary, soft.

I nodded. "I wish there was more time in the day," I admitted.

"I do to, and I promise to tell you everything in time, but to answer your question, it has been a year since I left home,"

"And your home is Mirkwood?"

"The forest of Mirkwood, and the cities deep within it," he nodded. He was silent for a moment, but I could tell he wished to say more.

"I am prince of Mirkwood, love. My father is Thranduil, King of Silvan Elves," he admitted. My brow rose in shock.

"Thranduil? I have read so much about him. And you are a prince? Then what are you doing with me? Your people would never approve of such a ruffian!" I was nearly shouting, I was so surprised.

Legolas put his hands on my shoulders at once, trying to still me. "No, Calahdra. Please do not think that. I am still Legolas, and I still love you. You are the most precious thing to me. And if our futures bring us both to Mirkwood, then I assure you that my people would treasure you as much as I do. Please know that. It is the truth, meleth nin, I swear it,"

I stared into his eyes, and I could tell that he spoke the truth. But the shock was nearly terrifying.

"I just...I cannot believe it...," I whispered. I almost felt betrayed. I was not deserving of him, no matter what he said. That he had mentioned nothing of this made my head hurt with anxiety.

"Love?" he asked gently, fear clear in his eyes. "Are you angry with me?"

I took a deep breath. Even in anger, my love for him was sure. But I felt that lying about how I felt would be a poor show of my adoration of him. "A little," I admitted, "but not enough to change anything,"

He looked at me with sadness. "I am sorry, Calahdra. I should have told you sooner. That would have been fair to you. But it is a very hard topic to bring up,"

I nodded. "I do not doubt your intentions, Legolas, nor would it have changed anything. But I still feel quite insignificant,"

He clearly wanted to know what I meant, and this thought tied in with my first.

"What I mean is that of all the women you could have, you chose me. And I wonder why that is,"

"Because I am in love with you," he said, as if this explained everything. "Because you are the one person that makes me feel as though I am whole, as if my future is guaranteed. You keep my mind from war and pain, and when I see your smile, I am filled with the purest joy. You are smart, you are clever. You are strong, courageous, and you are beautiful in both your heart and soul,"

My eyes tingled with tears.

"But love...," he mused, "I wonder, too, what it is that you see in me,"

I looked at him, my head cocked to the side. I was not under the impression that his self esteem was as fragile as mine. "You are perfect, Legolas. Like someone out of a dream. You are kind, strong, and handsome. Everything you do makes me feel healed, whole, and you look at me as if I am the most important thing in the world. You make me feel loved, and that is all I need,"

He smiled slowly, and embraced me. I pressed my face into his shoulder, inhaling him. He smelled like grass and dew, but also like sweat and blood. It was a perfect combination of both deadly strength and pure elvenhood.

I pulled away when he did, and I retrieved my tunic from off the bed. Carefully, I began unlacing my gown.

"Would you like me to close my eyes?" Legolas asked, both seriously and good-naturedly.

"No, love, not if you don't want to. But I wouldn't mind some help with these ties," I answered.

His fingers unlaced my bodice quickly, and I looked at his face as he did so. My skirts fell down around my ankles, and I was left in my corset and leggings. He was clearly concentrating on not revealing his lust. I stroked his cheek with my fingers and he stopped, looking at me.

"I love you," I whispered.

"As I love you," he returned. He glanced down at my underclothing and my skin began to heat. He must have noticed, for he swiftly picked the nightshirt from where I had dropped it.

He pulled the worn shirt down over me and turned me to my bed. I crawled beneath the covers, and rubbed my feet together to warm them against the cool sheets.

"Would you like to join me?" I asked, watching as he stood at the side of my bed, looking conflicted. I pulled the blankets aside in invitation.

"I would, love. But still, I worry what Aragorn and Gimli might think," he admitted.

"Do not worry about. They surely recognize you to be an honorable enough person to not go running off to bed with the first woman you meet,"

Legolas looked at me for a moment, and then settled to my bed, unlacing his boots as he sat on the edge. "You are right, sweet," I took advantage of his momentary distraction by unlacing my corset and pulling it out from beneath my tunic.

I yawned once more, but was awakened and wide eyed when he pulled his tunic over his head. I stared at his smooth, muscular back, and the sight was exhilarating.

He then proceeded to unbraid his hair, and the sight was so erotic, my entire body began to heat beneath my sheets.

He turned to me, still untangling the intricate braids. The plaits left behind were wild and beautiful. "Are you alright? You have become quite silent, love," He then caught sight of the fact that my breasts were sitting unchecked on my chest, and he forced his eyes away from me.

I nodded, swallowing before I could speak. "This is all very new to me, Legolas. I'm afraid that I'm struggling to comprehend the fact that a half naked man is sitting on my bed, and also with the fact that his man is no man at all, but in fact an elf prince who swears that I am the love of his life," I nearly forgot to breathe in my admission, but it seemed quite important to explain myself fully to him.

He laughed, and the sound was delightful. "Yes, this seems like quite a fantasy, doesn't it? For I cannot believe that I have been seduced by a Shieldmaiden of Rohan who is in fact an elf herself and swears that she loves me as well," He shifted so that he could swing his legs beneath the covers, and brought his arms around my waist. We lay down besides each other, and he stared deep into my eyes.

"It is the best dream I have ever had, meleth nin, and I hope that it never ends," he murmured, stroking my hair.

"The same is true for me, Legolas," I answered. But our smiles were bittersweet, for both of us knew that there was something we were refusing to speak about.

War would divide us, and that was certain. But in that moment, joy was all that mattered. And I fell asleep in his arms that night, my mind still filled with a thousand questions, and my soul questioning my sanity. But my heart had never felt so right, and I knew in my core that I was finally happy.


	11. Oaths

I awoke as the sun rested on my face through my window. Legolas lay still beside me, his back to me. I appraised the cords of muscle embroidered throughout his back. He was spectacularly fit, and I raised my finger to trace his sculpted shoulder blades. He made a small choking noise and turned around at once.

"That tickles, Cal," he chastised, his voice appetizingly gruff with sleep. But I was too surprised by his casual use of my nickname to give much thought to his sarcastic tone and unveiled body.

"Cal?" I questioned quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It was a mental lapse, I think," he apologized.

"No, no, it was cute!" I assured him, "Actually, many people call me that. Calahdra is a bit of a mouthful. I was just surprised that you used it. It sounds different somehow, coming out of your mouth," I explained while he studied my face.

"Calahdra isn't a mouthful. It's beautiful," he muttered, and his fingers began to trace my ears, my nose, and my jaw.

"And you said that I was tickling you," I told him, scarcely able to breathe.

"Would you like me stop?" his question held an edge of challenge that brushed at my ego. I shook my head to prevent my voice from betraying me.

"That's what I thought," he whispered, and bent to kiss me. His kisses, I noticed, were very soft and chaste, and some part of me resented that. But I understood the necessity and appreciated his thoughts behind it. I was damaged, as it was, and anything more than what he provided me would surely push me over the edge.

When he pulled away, I smiled at him. "How was your night?" I asked, genuinely curious. If he did not truly sleep, than spending the night with me was surely boring. When I was not dreaming, I was usual as still and quiet as a log.

"Peaceful. Refreshing. You were so beautiful asleep, meleth nin. Truly gorgeous,"

"But weren't you bored?"

"Bored? I had to much to think about to be bored, sweetheart,"

I looked away, the bittersweet feeling coming to me once more. He was right, in that there was much to think about.

"Come," he said, escaping from my bed, "Today will be a long day,"

I sighed and stood, looking about my room as I stretched. Legolas had caught sight of the pile of horse tack in the corner of my room

"Are these for Meleare?" he asked.

"Ah-hmm," I said with a yawn, stretching my arms out and above me.

"Why did you name her that?" he asked, turning to me. At the sight of me, all stretched out against my clothes, my hair in tangles about my head, and my eyes bright with wakefulness, his eyes widened. I gave him a sensuous smile, assuming he found me appealing in some way or another. He looked away, a small grin on his lips.

"Oh, I have a sick sense of humor I guess," I explained, bending next to my chest and fingering through my clothing to find my funeral dress. Legolas continued looking at me with question.

"It means harlot," I explained.

"Oh," I was confused at his lack of comment, but let the subject drop. I pulled out my single black dress and held it up before me, eyeing it with distaste. "I've never liked black. It is too plain, and yet it represents so much more than one would wish it to,"

"That is true," Legolas agreed, now surveying my bow and arrows. "These are well made," he murmured, "Who made them?"

"My bow was my mother's, but I restrung it to suit my strength and re-stained the wood. The arrows I make myself,"

"Pheasant?"

"Rock pigeon," I said, "Their tails grow long in the winter and they lose them when they nest in the spring. I collect great sacks of them then, and fletch my arrows myself as needed,"

"Where did you learn that skill?" he asked, now surveying my armor.

I was moved by his burning curiosity of my skills. I had already known that he was an avid archer, which I would have expected of an elf had I not witnessed his skill before. But his undaunted passion for it was thrilling.

"My father taught me when I was young. He was always enthusiastic about me learning to protect myself," but I let the topic go, not interested in Legolas' curiosity shifting to my father, who I obviously referred to in the past tense.

"And your mare. Was she a gift from him as well?"

I nodded.

"He must have loved you very much,"

I froze. His use of the past tense bewildered me into a state of silence.

Legolas had come to me, an he rested his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him.

"Do you miss him?" he whispered.

"Every day," I answered. He clearly thought my father was dead, but it did not bother me. It would have been better if my Ada was dead, truly. But that thought spurred my guilt into a bitter cyclone within me and I turned away.

Legolas looked away as I dressed. My mourning gown was sheer and plain. The skirt was long and pleated, made of a layer of translucent silk and an under-layer of cotton. The bodice was fitted and high-necked and a single silver braid functioned as a belt. The sleeves were tight fitting and long.

I pinned half of my hair back and fit it all beneath a dark veil. A few wavy strands laid loose about my face. I let my necklace lay over my dress for once, and complimented it by pinning a silver pin set with a sapphire in my hair. I turned around to Legolas, who was now in his clothes once more, and asked his opinion.

"Gorgeous as ever, but entirely suitable for the occasion," was his gentle answer. Before we left, I hung my best knife on my belt. The hilt was marbled with silver, so it matched well, but I knew that it was more than a ceremonial decoration. In recent days, protection was a foremost thought on everyone's mind.

I locked up my room and turned to Legolas. "Your room?" I asked. He nodded, and offered me his hand. I took it at once, and stroked his fingers with mine.

"Are you alright, love?" I asked, looking up at him. His brow was furrowed a little, and the sight immediately alarmed me.

"I am not a fan of funerals. Such morbid grief wears on me," he explained, giving my hand a squeeze. I squeezed back.

"I'll be here, sweet," I murmured, smiling at him in encouragement. I brought his knuckles to my lips for a moment, and he smiled sweetly back at me.

"That is sure to make it bearable,"

We reached the quarters he was sharing with Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf a short time later. We ran in to few people, for the guest house was rarely busy these days. Those we did see did not look at us, and for that I was grateful. I was sure that Legolas and I would be an odd sight to anyone's eyes.

Legolas knocked upon the door of his room and Aragorn opened it, looking rough with sleep. He looked at me with some surprise for a moment, which I had expected, and then greeted Legolas.

"Quel amrun," Legolas returned, and Aragorn ushered him in. I stayed in place, unsure of whether I was welcome.

"It's safe inside, my lady. Please, come in," Aragorn said to me. I smiled, and followed Legolas.

"Thank you, my Lord," I said quietly. Behind me, a grumbling laugh erupted.

"Now I know where you've been, Master Elf. Off wooing pretty young women, have you?" Gimli accused, his eyes sparkling ever still.

Legolas shot him a pained look, which only sent Gimli into another fit of laughter. Standing tall, Legolas put his hands on my shoulders and stood behind me. I looked on Gandalf, who was sitting on a cot on the far wall. He was looking at me strangely, and the sight of him made my skin itch like it had before.

"I have someone to introduce," Legolas announced, "This is Calahdra Medlinniel of Fenmarch, a Shieldmaiden of Rohan," Gimli harrumphed.

"A warrior woman? My, Legolas, I can not tell whether your aim has improved or gotten worse in this place,"

Legolas gave my shoulders an apologetic squeeze, but I giggled instead. Gimli's teasing gave me enough confidence to challenge him.

"Master dwarf, you seem jealous. Perhaps if your head had been farther from the ground, I would have set my sights on you instead of Legolas, but alas, it is not so,"

The room went silent for a moment, and the quiet pressed viciously on me. Just as I began to second guess my attempt at humor, Gimli's stony glare shifted to joy and he laughed with such vigor that the room shook.

The others laughed to, and my momentary unease lapsed, and I joined in.

"I approve Legolas, I approve," Gimli managed to say, before his laughter consumed him once more. Gandalf stood and walked to me.

"You seem to be a fine young lady, Calahdra. It is nice to meet you," he said, offering his hand. I took it and he lifted it to his mouth, which was framed with a great white beard.

"And you as well, Gandalf. Much have I heard of you, Master Wizard," I returned.

Aragorn came to me as well, and he took my hand after Gandalf. "Well met, Calahdra of Fenmarch. I fought beside your father for a time, many years ago. He was then a courageous and charismatic general, and he spoke of his wife being pregnant with you. His eyes lit up each time he mentioned it. I see now the reason for it,"

I smiled in answer, refusing to let the truth spoil the joyous mood in the air. "Thank you, lord Aragorn,"

Gimli lumbered up to me next, and I smiled down at him. "Forgive me, master Gimli. I hope my words did not bruise your feelings,"

"No, there are no bruises here," he said, tapping his chest beneath his thick beard. He took my hand next and pressed it to his mouth. "Fine greetings, young one,"

Legolas stepped to stand beside me, moving his hand to my waist. "Let me dress," he whispered, and I nodded at him, turning aside.

Aragorn sat in the lone chair by the door, a hand beneath his chin. He looked stately now, even with his scraggily hair and beard. I knew then who he was, for I had read much about the Dunedain and their roots with the lost line of Kings.

That the Heir of Elendil sat before me fazed me little, however, for much had happened in the few days that I would have thought better suited for a dream.

"A Shieldmaiden?" he asked, looking at me quizzically, "Like Eowyn?"

"Of a sort," I responded, "Eowyn is not supposed to fight. She is merely a Shieldmaiden due to her position in the court. But knowing Eowyn, she will reject that tradition before the end," I explained.

"Then you are a true Shieldmaiden? What does that mean?"

I looked at my knife while I answered, "I am to protect the King with my life. Should he come to danger, I fight for him at all costs. Whereas the Eorlingas sworn to Theoden fight for him on the battlefield in his stead, I am to stay by his side at all times during times of war. I do what he wishes, and stand in for scouts and generals should they fall. But for all the oaths I have worn to Theoden, I fear that I have failed them all,"

Aragorn's brow puckered. "Why is that?"

"That snake, Wormtongue, kept me from my duties. He said my services were not needed when I arrived, and to this day he has ever kept me from the King's side,"

"Grima's treachery has run deeper than we thought. To keep a king from his most trusted guards is indeed cruel," Gandalf added.

Aragorn stood and looked to both of us. "I do not think that that was Wormtongue's only reason for keeping you from Theoden, Calahdra. He must have realized that an elf maiden could see through his guises and perhaps even challenge him,"

I looked at him in shock. "How did you know?" My voice was weak. He had been the first to ever guess my heritage correctly.

"I was raised by elves, Calahdra, and I know their looks and ways. I knew your lineage when first I saw you. But I do wonder how it is that your existence has not been detected by other elves,"

I blinked in astonishment. Legolas had come up behind me once more, and rested a hand on my waist. "My mother forsook her heritage whence she met my father. She herself had been raised in the forests of Lorien, and she had seen the strife her own parents had gone through, what with her father being human and long dead, and her mother an elf. She did not wish such discrimination on herself and left Lorien to live with my father. She has not had contact with her own people since,"

 

"That is an odd tale, Calahdra. Elves value their heritage above all else. I wonder how your mother could so easily forsake who she was,"

"I do not know, but I can say that my mother is no longer herself. She has not taken to the ways of Rohan with much grace, and she finds my father's people to be barbaric and uncultured. I am sure she would return to her people, if it was not for her duty and pride," I explained. My mother was an honorable woman, as cold and twisted as she was, and I spoke the truth.

"Have you had any wish to spend time with elves?" Gandalf asked.

"Sometimes, especially when I was little, but this war has destroyed many people's fondest dreams and such dark times do not allow for building futures outside of the doom upon us. I have looked instead to my duty and my people, and I will rest only when they can,"

Aragorn placed a hand on my shoulder. "Look to hope as well, Calahdra. There is always hope,"

I gave a weak smile and turned to Legolas, hiding my face halfway into his chest. He held me fast, and looked to Aragorn. They shared a moment of wordless communication and then nodded at each other.

"Let us go," Gandalf said, "Today will be a long day and many will need our counsel,"

 

 

 

Gandalf was right. After the service, which took all of the morning and edged on into the afternoon, Theodred's body was lifted on a cairn and brought down the steps of Meduseld and through the city streets. The procession from Edoras to the funeral mounds was long and cheerless. Women wept with anguish. Men hid their faces behind their hands. The sky was dark, yet it did not rain, and every animal in the city, whether it was a horse, a dog, or a crow, was inexplicably quiet.

I stood beside Legolas, who followed behind Aragorn, who followed close to Theoden, during the proceedings. Legolas wore a black tunic and grey leggings, and the affect made his eyes appear stormy and lifeless. He kept a hand on my back throughout the procession, clearly concerned for me.

I did not cry as the hearse drew on through the city, nor when women began to toss symbolmyne on Theodred's corpse. I walked on, my heart heavy and body sore, until his pallet-bearers stopped before his tomb. Eowyn began the traditional lament, calling out in Rohirric Theodred's heritage and deeds, and boding him safe passage to the halls of his forbearers. Her voice held no beauty or life in it, only the wavering keens of a woman who has been broken and has nothing left to give to those she loves. It was then when my façade of bravery and pride failed me, and the tears rolled incessantly down my face.

When the tomb was shut, and Eowyn's song ended, a cacophony of moans broke out among those standing before his tomb, and I turned to Legolas, who embraced me as I sobbed noiselessly into his chest.

The long minutes of grieving passed, and slowly those clad in black and tears turned from the tombs and went back to Edoras, like tiny shards of broken glass splintering away from the remaining mass. My tears ceased eventually, and I waited for Eowyn to leave before I did. She stood beside Theoden for a time, leaning into the renewed man's embrace. He stared lifelessly at his son's tomb, his eyes broken. My compassion for my King was born anew.

I heard of the glory of Theoden before his dissention, hearing of his conquests and feats as a young man. When he had assumed command of Rohan after his father's death, much was expected of him. But it was then that the war began to consume all chance of hope and glory, and despair pecked at the core of Rohan, eating away at it like a fever.

By the time I had come to Meduseld, Saruman's hold on Theoden through Wormtongue was like the strongest of shackles mixed with the purest poison. Theoden's soul and courage had been lost to the madness of the White Wizard. And so I had grieved for the loss of our King instead of loathing him like many did.

Seeing him now, young again and in control of his own mind, my heart was renewed. The oaths I had taken had never been broken, and that I knew as I gazed upon my King. His grief made him so vulnerable, and I wished to stand at his side like Eowyn did. I wished to watch for his safety so that he might grieve in peace, without fear of the many enemies about him. But my shame and meekness held me fast, and I waited until Eowyn parted from him.

When she did, Aragorn guided her trembling form away to the city, and I took a deep breath before stepping before Theoden. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes troubled as he obviously strove to remember me.

"I know you," he said, straining with himself, "You are Calahdra of Fenmarch,"

I nodded, "Yes my lord, sent by my mother to serve your court,"

"Yes, yes. You swore the oaths of a Shieldmaiden before Grima could send you off. I remember, young Calahdra,"

I looked to him with purpose, and I took a breath once more, "That is indeed true my lord, but I fear I have abandoned those oaths and forsaken my purpose. For if I had better protected you, my lord, much suffering might have been avoided," I was shaking now, and I feared my voice might betray the courage I wished to show him. I badly needed Legolas' reassurance now, but he stood a way off beside Gandalf, watching the King and me's exchange.

Theoden's gloved hand came beneath my chin, and he brought my gaze to his. "If I am to punish you for being driven from your post, than I should be tortured for a thousand years in the deepest pits of the enemy's abode, Calahdra, for I too, abandoned my people and my duty. You have done nothing wrong,"

I nodded, and he let my jaw go.

"Kneel, Calahdra Medlinniel of Fenmarch," he commanded.

I kneeled and drew my knife, offering it to him. He took it at the hilt and held before me.

"Calahdra, do you swear to protect your King and do his bidding no matter what perils you may face,"

"I do, my lord,"

"Would you stand by your King's side and before your people even as the world burned about you and all hope is lost?"

"I would, my lord," I answered, my voice was gaining some power.

"Will you place your King and your country above all else, and represent your court and council with all the honor and dignity of the greatest of nobles?"

"I will, my lord,"

"Then I hold you now to be, and forever more until death steal you from my service or I should release you, to be a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, Calahdra Medlinniel of Fenmarch," he announced, his voice raising just enough to assure that others around us would hear.

"And I hold these oaths to their value, Theoden King, and swear by them with my life," Theoden gave back my knife, and I sheathed it as I stood. Standing before him, he placed a hand against my heart.

"Westu Calahdra, hail," He said, his voice compassionate, almost fatherly.

"Westu Theoden, hail," I returned, bowing my head. He bowed back, to my surprise, and then looked over my shoulder to Legolas.

"Someone is waiting for you, Calahdra," he commented, his eyes brighter as he realized why Legolas was waiting for me. I blushed and dipped my head. "Do not feel shame, Calahdra. You are young, and love is easy when you are young, even in times of darkness,"

"That is true, my lord, but I must be ever mindful of the oaths I have twice taken,"

Theoden chuckled, "I do not think you would so easily abandon your duties, young one. For all your gentleness and humility, I see a strong warrior in you, Calahdra. You will not fail me, and that is clear,"

I nodded my head in affirmation. "I swear it, my lord,"

"Good. You may take your leave, Calahdra. I do not think that I will need your protection now, but meet me in Meduseld an hour hence,"

I nodded once more, and turned towards Legolas. I walked with purpose, feeling courageous after Theoden's warm words.

Legolas wrapped and arm around my shoulders and I pressed my head to his shoulder as we turned back to the city. Gandalf stayed behind, and went then to Theoden.

"That was well done, Aieriel," Legolas whispered.

"Thank you," I whispered back.

We walked in companionable silence back to Meduseld, which was as still as before. The grey skies now rippled with the setting sun, and a breeze tore over the plain and into the banners of Rohan. I stopped on the steps before the hall and looked up at the white horse, running swiftly and terribly on a green backdrop. "Ever has the banner of my people been carried on the breezes of these plains. If it falls, so will all I hold dear," I whispered.

Legolas squeezed me tightly. "If there is one thing I have learned during my days in Rohan, it is that your people are stronger and full of more fire than any people I have met before. I do not think that Rohan will fall so easily, love,"

I looked at my feet for a while, feeling tired. "Come," Legolas whispered. "You must eat,"

I led him to the kitchens through the servant's entrance. There we found bread and cheese, as well as watered mead and tea. Legolas commented on the heartiness of the food.

"Your people enjoy rustic meals, don't they?" he said as he downed a small cup of beef stew.

"Well, we have no place for lush gardens on the plains, and so our crops must be plants that are sturdy and wholesome,"

"In Mirkwood, we have great orchards and gardens that blossom all year long. We eat mainly fruits and vegetables, with meat added sparingly,"

"So I have heard of elves, and I myself am not an immense fan of such steady diets of meat and cheese. But it all there is to offer, especially during the fall and winter,"

Our conversation went on, and the fact that I could have meaningful, lengthy conversations with another person surprised me greatly. Usually I kept to myself, or spoke to Meleare about my troubles. But talking with Legolas was as easy as breathing.

It was something about the way he tilted his head when I spoke, or the way his lips would ease into a smile whenever I did, or how gentle his laugh was at even the slightest of jokes. The way his eyes seemed to drink in my own, pulling me in and holding me close without any touch at all.

Eventually, I paused in my casual banter and stood. "I feel like our hour is up," I explained.

Legolas nodded and stood too, reaching out for my hand. I led him back to Meduseld, and parted hands with him as we entered. As my eyes adjusted briefly to the dim, I saw then two small children, rugged and weak, seated before Theoden. Eowyn, still in her mourning gown and cheeks still pink with un-dried tears, sat with them, tending to them as they devoured bowls of stew. I went to Theoden at once, and he nodded as I stood beside him.

Eowyn looked at me for a moment as she stood before her uncle. "They were unarmed. They had no warning," she said, her voice thick with compassion.

"Where is mama?" the littlest figure, a girl, piped out. Eowyn shushed her and bent down beside her once more, laying a cool hand over her brow.

Theoden sat down in his throne, his head in a single hand. I stood beside his throne, while Gandalf sat on the other.

"This is but a taste of Saruman's folly," he said, his hand on Theoden's seat, "We will see many more orphans and widows if an end is not put to this madness,"

"Orcs and men are running through the Westfold, burning as they go. Uncle, you must do something," Eowyn pleaded, drawing near to the King, who now looked weary and bereft.

Aragorn, seated near Gimli and Legolas, put down his pipe. "Fight, my lord. You must fight Saruman. Draw his armies out of Isengard and fight while you still can,"

Theoden looked up, a fire returning once more to his eyes. He stood and I made a motion to follow, but he held out a hand behind him and a stayed beside his throne. "No. I would not risk open war upon my people,"

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn countered.

Theoden looked at him ruefully, clearly losing his temper. "When last I looked, Theoden, not Aragorn was king of Rohan,"

The hall went silent, and Gimli pulled his pipe from his mouth. Legolas looked on at Theoden, and then glanced back at me.

"I will lead my people to Helm's Deep," he announced, and looked back at Gandalf. Gandalf said nothing, nor did anyone. "We leave at dawn,"


	12. Possessions

That evening became a whirlwind of activity very quickly. The Rohirrim were mustered at once, which meant that my help was needed in the stables. The cooks needed help packing enough food for all of the soldiers, and so my help was needed in the kitchens. Marmagen needed help getting laundry back to its respected owners, and so my help was needed in the laundry. And Theoden needed my help packing his own things and sending messages. But worst of all, I needed to pack myself and tend to Meleare, and yet on top of all of those things, I wanted desperately to be with Legolas. 

After Theoden's announcement, Legolas and I embraced for a single minute, and he looked at me deeply.

"I will meet you in your room tonight, sweet, after all that must be done is taken care of," he murmured, and I nodded.

We parted with words we still needed to say clinging to the air between us, but I turned back to Theoden and stood at his side.

"Calahdra, your help will be needed in the stables. See to Snowmane personally, and then to your own horse. After that, see to food for you and me, and then return to my chambers to deliver the food. My armor will be waiting there, and it will need attending to. Find Lindon to polish and pack it. He is the son of Miriam, the head maid. Then find Hama and send him to me,"

I did my best to memorize his instructions. And thus began my evening.

I went to the stables quickly, knowing how chaotic they would become. Snowmane was stabled in the same barn as Meleare, and I was thankful for that. Trying to cross the horse-yard would be near impossible within several minutes.

Snowmane snorted at me as I neared, and I went to him slowly, knowing that the noise and stress in the barn would bother even the greatest of horses, such as him.

I spoke softly in elvish to him as I scrubbed him down and polished him coat. I picked his hooves, smoothed insect repelling lotions all over him, and treated him to carrots and apples in reward for calm behavior.

I was only distracted when several men attempted to lead Theodred's steed, Brego, from his stall. I watched the poor beast with pity as he screamed in outrage and fear. He reared up and lashed out as the men pulled him with ropes and chains. My heart ached for him, for the madness of war and loss was clear in his princely eyes. I had always admired the prince's horse, and to see him in such anguish was painful indeed.

Eowyn watched in sadness as well as she tended to her gelding. Aragorn came up beside her, taking one of the ropes from one of the men. The others watched warily, but Aragorn came right up to the horse, holding onto his halter firmly. He spoke calmly in elvish, petting the stallion and removing the ropes.

Eowyn came to him. "I have heard of the grace of elves and their power over beasts, but never did I think to see it in a ranger from the north,"

Aragorn looked at her gently. "I was raised by the elves of Rivendell" he explained in short, and Eowyn went silent, her eyes going wide.

"Turn him loose," Aragorn commanded the men, "He has seen enough of war,"

The men looked at each other for a moment, but Brego was calm once more, and they complied. Aragorn came then to me.

"This is Snowmane, then?" he asked, resting a hand on the valiant stallion's neck.

"He is," I said. "Possibly the most handsome stallion and strongest warhorse in all of Rohan,"

"I have heard of his power, and his heritage. But you forget that Shadowfax shares this barn with him,"

I smiled. "That is true. But Shadowfax is no warhorse. He is a prince of his own making,"

Aragorn smiled and nodded. "Indeed, that is so. And where is your horse, Calahdra?"

"She is there," I said, pointing several stalls away, where Meleare watched me. "Meleare is my mare,"

Aragorn chuckled, probably at her name. "She is young," he commented.

"She is three years old, and acts younger yet,"

Aragorn went to her, and spoke to her as he had Brego.

_"This man speaks as you do, Calahdra,"_ Meleare said, her voice sounding in my head as it always had.

_"He was raised much the same way as I, Mel. He is a good man and he will not harm you,"_

Meleare gave a huff of affirmation. Aragorn's eyes met my own as I smiled at my horse. He walked back to me after giving Mel pat on the nose.

When he had come close enough for a whisper, he looked at me seriously. "Have you always been able to mind-speak?"

"Only with Mel, but she is the only one I have ever tried to speak with,"

"That is a powerful gift, Calahdra. It is dangerous, too,"

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks turn hot. "I would never use it to control another,"

Aragorn looked about for a moment, and then leaned closer to me, "It is not you that I distrust. It is those who might use your power to bend to their own will,"

"It will never happen. I am strong, Aragorn, and my mind is well practiced in the arts of defense. I would not yield easily, should I be captured," I took a deep breath, and looked at him straight in the eyes, "I have learned, also, how to destroy my mind should torture go ill,"

Aragorn's eyes widened. "You are well practiced in dark arts, Calahdra," his voice had lowered to a growl. But I raised my voice a little, fearing that he might think ill of me.

"Not well practiced, only well read. And my mother knew of my skills, and she taught me what she could. Trust me Aragorn, my powers are sound. I know well the consequences should I be captured. I am prepared to do what I must should that happen. Anyone with a gift such as mine should,"

Aragorn studied me for a moment more, and then lowered his head. "I do not doubt you, Calahdra. I am simply wary, and know much of these things my self," His voice lowered once more, "I, too, am able to mindspeak. Not over long distances or in times of stress and distraction, but I am able,"

_"I am honored that you would tell me such a thing, Aragorn,"_ I said to him, turning back to Snowmane's mane, which I was braiding intricately in traditional battle styles.

_"As I am honored by you, Calahdra, Cadren's daughter,"_

"Quel esta, Calahdra," he said, taking his leave. I nodded to him in parting, and went to Meleare.

_"Does he know of your power?"_ She asked as I began the same process of polishing and massaging over again.

_"Yes, and he has the same power as well, although his is much weaker,"_ I told her.

_"He is a fine man, Calahdra. Would I embarrass you if I told you that any foal of his and yours would be fine indeed?"_ she said, pawing at the ground. I shoved a carrot into her mouth.

_"Yes, you silly mare, you would. Besides, I have found someone, Meleare. Someone who you will find just as noble,"_ I said, quieting my voice within her head somewhat.

Meleare gave me the equine version of a highly speculative look. _"Have you now?"_

I nodded, and worked at braiding her forelock. _"He is the elf you met the other day, Mel. And every time I look at him, I feel safe. Every time I touch him, I feel as though a fire is burning through my veins,"_

_"Then you have found the one,"_ Mel said, and she then whinnied triumphantly, _"I knew you'd find him someday, Cal,"_

_"I know. I just wish I would have believed you,"_

We stood in silence then, and by the time I had stopped, she looked as beautiful and as regal as Snowmane. We said our goodbyes and I kissed her nose as I always did. She whinnied softly in response, and I smiled at her.

I left quickly and went to the kitchens, which were smoldering with the heat of the ovens.

"Cal, you're here for the King, aren't you?" one of the cooks inquired as soon as I entered.

I nodded and a large mass of bread and cheese and meat was deposited into my arms.

I returned to Theoden's quarters, which was one of then antechambers off the main floor of Meduseld. Hama was already there, as well as a boy whom I assumed was Lindon.

"There she is," Hama said as I came into the regal room, which was dressed with furs and velvets. "It is good seeing you at your rightful place beside Theoden, Calahdra," Hama said as I placed the food I had gathered on the King's bed, which was covered also in armor and clothing, as well as various parcels and trinkets.

"Thank you, master Hama. It is good to be at is side, as exhausting as I am finding it to be,"

"Winded already?" Hama joked, prodding my shoulder.

"A little," I smiled back. Lindon was already polishing the king's chest plate, and I looked back at the food.

"Take what you need, and then you can go, little miss," Hama said, still packing.

I did as he said, taking only a little bread and cheese. As I rounded the door, I has forced to stop short as Eowyn nearly collided with me.

"Oh! My apologies, lady Calahdra,"

"Do not fret, my lady. We're all a bit lost at the moment, I think,"

"That is sure," she said, and then looked at me again, as if she had not seen me before.

"It is strange to me, Calahdra, that I did not think to become better acquainted with you before. I think that Grima's sorcery fogged all of our minds, and in my blindness I rarely thought much of you. But here you are now, taking up what duties of a Shieldmaiden I never could,"

I bit my lip for a moment, and then looked at her eyes, which were as cold as ever, yet lit with some light I had not seen in her before. "I think, my lady, that no sense of tradition or duty could keep you from where you know you are needed, Eowyn. I do not think that I have any more right to be called a Shieldmaiden than you,"

Eowyn gave me a wistful look. "Perhaps not, but perhaps so. Few can judge the skill of a woman, for we are wily and slow to share our true natures with anyone. But I must go, Calahdra, for I am needed elsewhere, as I am sure you are as well. I wish very much that I knew more about you, Lady of Fenmarch. Let us ride together tomorrow for a while, so that we might become better known to one another,"

"I agree, Lady Eowyn. That would be wise of us, I am sure,"

We nodded at each other politely and took our leave, and as we did, I wondered if Eowyn felt as I did. If she felt as though our brief meeting then seemed as important to her as it did to me.

 

 

 

I went to Marmagen then, knowing she would be flustered as her the folk of Edoras tried to collect their things before they parted their homes, for all of Edoras was to be emptied, and they had been told to bring only what they must.

She was indeed frustrated and very near to tears when I arrived. She embraced me strongly as she saw me, and immediately sent me out with bags of garments to deliver to certain people and places. I ran errands for her for an hour or so, and then took my leave.

I trudged back to my bedroom, feeling tired and sore. I needed a bath and a hot meal, but I knew that my bath would be cold and that there was barely any chance of food that night.

I groaned at the thought as I turned my key and pushed open my door, but cut my voice as soon as I saw a figure on my bed in the dark. I lit a lamp at once, one hand on my knife. But there, grinning wildly, was Legolas. I sighed deeply and closed the door, locking it behind me.

I went to him, hardly feeling my feet or my fingers. He held out his arms to me, still smiling, and I kissed him passionately.

He pulled me down to him, so that all of my weight rested on top of him, and his lips moved quickly over mine. He unclasped my cloak and tossed it to the floor, undid my braided bun, and let his fingers flow through my locks with gentle, yet passionate strokes, and assisted me in pulling off my boots with his bare feet.

I pulled away for a moment to kiss his brow. "I am glad you are here, meleth nin. This night was tiresome and weary, and I could not stop thinking of you,"

"The same is true for me, sweetheart. I missed you terribly and could not help but worry about you," he stroked my knotted hair, and kissed the tip of my nose, "I knew you would be very tired, and so I brought food for you, and hot water," he gestured to my wash tub, which was adorned with a halo of wispy steam. And sure enough, a covered plate sat on my dressing table, complete with a mug of mead and a glass of water.

I gawked at him, entirely filled with adoration. "I love you," I said, entirely overdramatically. He smiled at me and chuckled, his hands rubbing circles and loops into my back.

"Go, get clean. I will leave and bathe myself, and I will return within half an hour," he said.

Part of me wept inside, but I nodded, still overwhelmed by his display of kindness.

He left with a quick kiss, and I stripped down as soon as he left. I wallowed in the warmth of the bath and washed my skin and hair lovingly. I felt very pleased with myself in that moment, feeling as though I deserved this bath very much.

I dressed in a pair of warm, fur-lined leggings and an old, worn tunic. I braided my hair for simplicity's sake, and then set to packing my things. All of my weapons and battle gear were easily fit into a single saddle bag, and I put a spare dress, tunic, leggings, and several undergarments in another pack. My gowns and corsets, I left behind, as well as my small hoard of beauty products and jewelry. My only dilemma was my lyre.

I understood that the road to Helm's Deep was dangerous, and that there would be no place for music or song while on the road, but there was a chance that I would not return to Edoras, or that it could be attacked while I was gone. My lyre was my second greatest possession besides my necklace, and my necklace went with me wherever I went.

And so I set my lyre between its usual spot beside my bed and where my packs lay.

Just as I turned to my food, a knock on my door caught my attention.

I leapt up and opened the door at once, sure it was Legolas. Instead, it was a soldier in uniform, a package in his hands.

"I am to deliver this to you from Theoden king himself," The soldier said, clearly confused at his task, but polite nonetheless. He handed me the bundle.

"Thank you," I said, and nodded in farewell. I took the hefty bundle back to my bed, and unwrapped it as I sat cross-legged in the middle of the duvet.

Wrapped within a green cloak, embroidered with white, was a shirt of mail and a pair of well made leather riding breeches. Also, within the shirt of mail were a note and a chain with an odd token on it.

The note read: _"Calahdra-these items are for you to wear in battle, so that you might appear to truly be a fine soldier of Rohan. Also within this parcel is a necklace you might wear in remembrance of your King. It was a jewel of the last true Shieldmaiden of Meduseld, Eriodot of Snowbourne. She died many years ago, but left this jewel for the next woman who would take up her place alongside the King. It was left to her by the Shieldmaiden who trained her, and the Shieldmaiden before her, and so forth. It is an heirloom, Calahdra. Wear it with pride._  
Westu Hail,  
Theoden,  
King of Rohan and first Marshall of the Riddemark

 

I set the letter down and picked up the necklace. On a finely woven chain that appeared as strong as it did regal was set a single emerald within a circlet of white gold. The jewel was precious, and it seemed to sparkle with the fires of those who had worn it previously. I placed it around my neck at once, and held my palm to it, warming the cool metal with my hand.

Another knock sounded at my door, and I went to the door.  
"Hello, Cal," Legolas said as I let him in. He bent and kissed my brow, and then went to my bed, which seemed to be our usual resting place. He caught sight of the things resting there, and sat to inspect them. I would have gone to him if it had not been for the fact that he looked more godlike than I had ever seen him.

His hair was damp and wild, it's usual straight lengths and tight braids replaced by loose waves and braids meant for convenience, instead of convenience and style. His tunic was unbelted, and his arms were bare. He was barefoot once again, which seemed quite sensual to me.

The thought that this was all a result of him bathing immediately sent my mind into a whirlwind of confusing, passionate visions of him naked and immersed in steaming, scented water.

I shook my head to rid myself of the heat now engulfing my body and Legolas caught sight of me.

"What is it Calahdra?" he asked, laughing a little at my antics.

"Umm...," I said, staying pinned against my door, "You look very nice," but my voice slipped, revealing my obsession.

Legolas laughed and stood, walking to me slyly. As he placed his hands against the sides of my face and looked down at me, my stomach burned and my skin itched. "Have I aroused you, kitten?" he asked playfully, "Is this too much for you to handle?"

He brought his hands down to my shoulders, than down my arms and to my waist. He then continued to my hips, and to my buttocks, which he held with both hands.

I looked up at his lips, and licked my own without thought.

"Do not fight it, lirimaer. Just let go,"

And those were all the words I needed.

With a slight rise of my chin, I let my eyes absorb his at once. I pressed my hands to his chest and then looped them up around his neck and onto his back, where they laid gently. And then, letting my courage bubble over, I raised my right leg up over his left, and hooked it around his thigh.

Legolas half groaned, half sighed, and whispered my name. I did not need to look anywhere more than his eyes to see what I had done to him. The way that his hands pressed against my buttocks, and the way his lips trembled as he looked at me told me what his desire had built into. And with that single, devious thought, I pressed my lips to his and we escaped.


	13. Futile

The first hints of dawn woke me as the sun basked on my face. Looking over, I saw that Legolas was still resting, his eyes opened, as was the way of elves, but glazed over, and his breathing slow and lethargic. I smiled at him, hoping he might sense it even if he was wrapped up in some other dream. 

I let my mind drift to the night before as I stared at his slightly parted lips. So soft he had remained, even while kissing me so ardently. After a good ten minutes of our muffled sighs and smiles, he had laid me on my bed and put me to sleep with a lullaby. I had fallen into the refuge of sleep quickly, and I had known that I was safe no matter what the next day might bring as long as Legolas was beside me.

As the sounds of an awaking Edoras pushed past my window, I put a finger to Legolas' lips. His lips parted further, and I leaned in, giving him a soft kiss with which I hoped to rouse him. I looked into his open eyes as I pulled back and watched as the green pools of light smiled at me. I smiled back.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"Quel amrun, lirimaer," he returned, and he sat up, pulling a hand through his corn silk hair.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked, marveling in his god-like beauty. He looked back at me.

"Very well," he said, giving me a coy smile.

We then dressed in silence, backs to each other for privacy, which I found odd, although somehow necessary. I dressed in light battle gear; a red tunic and my shirt of mail beneath a leather vest and my green cloak; my new riding breeches, my black riding boots, and both my necklaces. I braided my hair and smudged my usual bit of kohl beneath my eyes.

Legolas, in his original outfitting of a blue tunic, green over-tunic, grey cloak, and leather bracers, gave me a wry grin of acceptance. "Charming, yet deadly," he commented, and I smiled back at him with a similar notion.

Legolas had apparently brought all of his things with him, which surprised me because they all fit within a small knapsack. He slung his bow and quiver, as well as two curved knives, over his shoulder and looked at me in waiting. I grabbed my own bags, and I ushered him out with a nod. Just as I raised my foot to pass through the doorway, I stopped.

For all I knew, this could be the last time I ever saw this room. I swallowed my doubts, however, and passed into the hallway, locking my door behind me. Legolas put a comforting arm around my shoulder.

"You will return, meleth nin, I am sure of it," he said quietly, and then he brushed the third parcel I had brought with me; my lyre. "So you settled on bringing it," he commented.

"How did you know I did not wish to?" I asked, perplexed.

 

"Well, from where you had placed it, it was clear that its fate was unknown,"

I nodded solemnly. "It may not survive this journey, and yet I fear that I may never have seen it again had I left it here,"

"You love it much," he said, "I must hear you play,"

I laughed a little, amused at the passion in his voice. "Perhaps this evening, Legolas. There will be need for entertainment, I think,"

Legolas we both went silent for a moment, contemplating what the day could bring. Gently, he massaged my neck with his hands. "I think so, too," he said.

We made our way to the stables eventually, for the throngs of nervous soldiers and their horses made the usually short walk quite treacherous.

Legolas found Gimli nearby Arod's stable, and I saddled Meleare quickly in order to join them. We led our horses out to the lawn before Meduseld, where all of the soldiers were congregating. I searched out Theoden and went to him.

"Ah, Calahdra," he greeted me. I placed a hand over my heart in return, nodding my head. "I have no need of you this morning, but I will send a message to you should I need you later on,"

I nodded, and returned to Legolas. I relayed Theoden's words to him, and he nodded. The cacophony of men and horses made speech uncomfortable, and so we sat in silence on our horses instead of carrying on a conversation.

An hour after dawn, we found ourselves outside the city's gates, looking upon the barren fields of Rohan. I rode quite near to Legolas, and the heat of his body helped to warm the chills of anxiety rolling down my spine.

He must have sensed my growing feeling of loss, for eventually he reached out to me. I took his hand in mine and looked at him. A single tear rolled across my cheek before it was carried away by the wind.

Legolas squeezed my hand. "All is well," he murmured, and his voice must have awoken a drowsy Gimli, who was seated behind him. The rugged dwarf looked at me for a moment, and then he gave me a gentle look.

"Ah, lass," he said, and I let my eyes fall in shame. I had never been one to cry, and yet leaving Edoras when I knew the chances of returning were slim was a heartbreaking notion.

Eowyn came to me then, and she must have seen the tears in my eyes, for she was silent for a time. "May I ride with you?" she asked after my fit had subsided. I nodded, and gave her a weak smile.

As soon as I saw Theoden rounding the tides of people waiting to set out from Edoras, I nudged Meleare forward and led Legolas, Gimli, and Eowyn behind him. It took nearly an hour to exit the city, for the masses of people lining the streets and alleyways of Edoras were quite difficult to navigate through, even while riding a war horse and having a twenty-soldier guard ahead of you.

Once outside the city, Eowyn immediately attempted to engage in conversation. I assumed that she was trying to assuage her own guilt at ignoring me for two months, and the thought rattled me. But I was polite, and returned what conversation I could.

Eventually, harmless talk of the comings and goings of various nobles from Meduseld turned to the arrival of Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli. I skimmed over the topic, feeling that if Legolas had not been at liberty to tell _me_ why he had come to Edoras, than speculation wasn't going to get anyone very far either.

All the while, Legolas rode in silence beside me, sometimes starting up a conversation with Gimli, who now walked beside him, or else simply watching the scenery. I often looked him over, trying to gauge his emotions without interrupting Eowyn's chatter.

I was trying so very hard not to be rude, and it was not as though I did not appreciate the White Lady's company. However, I was receiving the vague impression that Eowyn's only reason for riding with me was that she was so vastly lonely she would have spoken to the first noble woman to have passed her way. I certainly had a great amount of respect for her, for she was the only person who had kept Theoden alive these past years, and I was sure that the emptiness and bitter solitude of tending to the ailing King had worn on her. But I felt somewhat unattached to her, for friendship had never come easy for me, and she herself was coming off quite strong.

And hour or so passed, and I was finding myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Legolas must have noticed after a time, and much to my relief, he saved me before another of Eowyn's attempts at reviving the dying conversation between us arose.

"My Lady Eowyn, would you mind telling me what that is over there?" he interrupted gently, pointing vaguely in some far-off direction. I smiled and I saw his answering smile from the corner of my eye.

I rode then in silence, letting my gaze wander over the weary travelers before me. The long stream of those emptying Edoras was incomprehensible. I had not been aware that so many people could have possibly fit within the capital city.

All about me cries of children, nervous laughter, and polite banter rose up about the moors. Part of me cherished the proof of life the sounds carried, but at the same time....

Many, if not all, of these people would perish if Helm's Deep could not hold.

Life was so futile.

I shook my head, ridding myself of such thoughts. My duty was to my King, not to sentimental thoughts leading to darkness and despair.

Somehow, Legolas had convinced Eowyn to ride on to Aragorn. I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight.

Legolas chuckled and I looked over to him. He gave me an apologetic smile.

"She's so lonely, Legolas. What was I supposed to do?" I asked.

"No, you did the right thing, Cal," he said, and he looked out to the mountains, sitting on the horizon. I watched the expressions change on his face, and I longed to reach out to him, for he was obviously thinking about his own loneliness.

But before my hand even neared him, Meleare screamed in panic beneath me. A split second later, she bolted forward and wheeled around to the right in mid-rear. Bucking out behind her, she sprinted forward. Caught entirely unawares, I lunged for her reigns while pressing into her conscious at the same time. Meleare did not respond to either effort, and instead she reared once more. I gripped her tightly, thanking my father's insistence that I was trained by the best of horse-lords.

"Meleare, calm yourself!" I called out in elvish, as she landed once more with a scream. I thought she had come to, for she stood quivering for a few seconds. Behind me, I could hear the exclamations of Legolas and the other travelers who had witnessed Mel's fit.

_"Mel, what happened?"_ I asked,

But she did not respond. Instead, she reared up again. Convinced she was mad, I yanked her bridle hard. This did no good either. Instead, she bolted forward again, and she bucked once more.

I yanked at her reigns, beginning to lose patience. "Mel!" I cried, a sweat breaking out on my back, "Stop this!"

She quieted for a moment, but then she began to snort again.

_"Mel, what is wrong with you? Stop this now!"_ I scolded her, seriously concerned for her. She had never, in all the years I had known her, displayed such awful behavior.

_"Snake,"_ she managed, before rearing again. I was not ready for this, though, and I fell to the side. It would have been a harmless fall if it was not for the rock that positioned itself beneath my left calf. I cussed quite loudly as I felt granite break skin and hit bone.

Mel stood stock still beside me, having realized what she had done.

I felt blood soak through my leggings, and as I attempted to roll over and sit up, my ears still ringing with adrenaline and shock, Legolas had come to me. He had one hand pressed to the small of my back, keeping me still, and another clamped around my wrist.

"Calahdra?" he asked, his voice quite loud in my ringing ears.

"My calf...damn that fool horse," I muttered.

Legolas turned me over and pulled my legging up over my knee.

"That's not good at all," he commented. His fingers traced the skin about the lesion. I lifted my head to look at the injury.

Blood was gushing from a five inch gash in my leg, just above my ankle.

Aragorn and an unknown soldier were leaning over me now.

"Aragorn, can you bring me my kit please?"

"Legolas, are you sure you don't want me to tend to it?" Aragorn asked. For a moment Legolas looked as though he was going to protest, but with a look at my eyes and another look at the injury, he nodded.

Aragorn took his place as Legolas went to fetch his pack.

"Aragorn, Meleare mentioned something about a snake before she knocked me off," I told him, feeling panicky all of the sudden.

Aragorn turned to a still trembling Meleare. He looked her over while holding my leg down with his hand.

"Something bit her," he said lowly, and I sat up at once. My head rang with the rush of blood, but I looked to her legs. Sure enough, on her left back leg were two puncture wounds.

Two sets of hands pushed me back down.

"Oh no, Calahdra. Lay down," Legolas admonished me.

"Legolas, Meleare was bitten by a snake. Please, you have to help her," I said, struggling against him and Aragorn's hands.

"A snake?" he repeated, and he immediately went to her.

_"Mel, what did the snake look like? Did it have a rattle on its tail?"_ I asked, my heart racing.

_"Yes, it did. It was brown and yellow, with little diamonds all down it's back,"_ she said, and I could hear the fear in her voice. Meleare had always been nervous about snakes. The anger I had had with her was replaced by pity at once.

"Legolas, she needs medicine!"

"What kind?"

"I...I'm not sure. But...Vivendi would know. She's a healer that specializes in snake bites. Please, you must help Meleare,"

Meleare was the only family I had left, and I knew that bite from a cliff-rattler would kill her if left untended.

Legolas gave me a gentle look.

"I will find Vivendi and help Meleare if you will lie down and let Aragorn tend to that cut,"

"Fine," I snapped, feeling quite overwhelmed.

Aragorn had already braced my leg and was wiping the blood from it. He had pulled a sour smelling liquid in a small vial from his pack and swiped it around the wound. I hissed at the way it stung.

By now, Eowyn, Gimli, several soldiers, and an assortment of city folk had arranged themselves around me. The way they were looking at me made me flush with embarrassment.

Aragorn had strung a needle and had beckoned for Eowyn to kneel beside me. With one hand she braced my thigh to the ground, and with another she squeezed my hand. At least I was grateful for her company now.

In the ten minutes it took for Aragorn to sew my leg up, Legolas had found Vivendi, who appraised Mel's bite and was forcing a vile of some sort of yellowish potion down her throat. Legolas was clearly coaxing Meleare to cooperate in mind-speak. I was more grateful for his existence within my life than I could put into words.

When Aragorn had finished, and Meleare was given Vivendi's approval, Legolas came to me and pulled me up into his arms.

"Calahdra, I don't want you walking on that leg for the rest of the day. You will need to re-bandage it every twelve hours and you mustn't get it wet. The stitches can be removed in a week's time, but until then, you must mind your leg and see to a healer if you have any qualms about it," Aragorn instructed me, handing Legolas back his pack.

Vivendi then came to me. "Your mare will be fine. Cliff-rattler venom is weak in large animals, and your mare is young and tough. Just watch out for her, and if she looks as though she is in pain, come to me at once,"

I nodded to the woman, and retrieved two gold coins from my sash, pressing them into her hand. It was more than she would make as a healer in a week, yet it was worth it to me. Meleare's life was more precious than all the gold I would ever have.

Vivendi stared at the gold for a moment, a variety of emotions playing out over her face. When she looked back up at me, she was frowning.

"Vivendi, Meleare...,"

She was shaking her head, and she pressed her hand to mine. "No, my lady. Gold means nothing anymore. Only allegiance, only duty means anything in these dark times,"

I stared at her, shocked by the truth in her words. I watched her back as she walked on.

Legolas placed me on Hasufel and I stared dejectedly at my own hands. The pain that Aragorn had somehow made disappear was now returning.

"Love?" Legolas asked. I looked down to him, where his head bobbed next to my hip as he led the grey horse on.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked, with tenderness in his eyes that I had never thought possible.

I nodded weakly, and looked down at my bandaged calf.

"I feel like such a fool," I muttered, looking down at my hands once more. Meleare suddenly lowered her head as well. She walked beside me, led by Gimli.

"You are no fool, Calahdra. Nor are you, Meleare," Legolas said, with a glance over to my sullen mare. "Just unlucky,"

I shook my head, undoing my braid so that my hair spilled over my back and around my shoulders.

We walked on in silence until the King called an hour long halt for lunch. Legolas lowered me from Hasufel so that I could join him, Gimli, Aragorn, Eowyn, and Gandalf for a bowl of stew.

Aragorn was cooking, and from the enticing smells wafting from the pot he was leaning over, he was a cook beyond fair.

"Is your mare well?" Gimli askeed as he sat beside me.

"Yes, she has been seen too. Although, I think her pride has been badly bruised," I said with a look over his shoulder to where Meleare stood behind Hasufel, grazing with a dull look in her eyes.

"Mine would be as well," the dwarf said with a chuckle.

Aragorn finished the stew and gave me the first bowl. I lifted a spoonful to my lips, blowing it gently. Legolas watched me the whole while, and I noticed the sudden intensity of his eyes as he watched me purse my lips. A sadistic voice inside my head cried out in pleasure, and with a slight narrowing of my eyes, I placed the spoon inside my mouth slowly, pulling my lips around the metal and removing the spoon with a tiny popping noise.

Legolas' grip on my waist tightened with each of my movements.

"Aragorn, this is splendid! It's so savory!" I said, adding a bit more mirth to my voice than necessary, but enjoying it all the while.

Aragorn gave me a polite smile. "Thank you, Calahdra,"

He must have noticed Legolas' expression and grip on me, as well as the way I was licking my lips, for his eyes widened and he nearly doubled over into the fire. He laughed for a long while.

No one else seemed to have noticed, however, for they stared at Aragorn with odd expressions on their faces. Legolas, however, leaned in so that his lips brushed my ear.

"You think that's funny, don't you?" he whispered darkly.

"Hilarious," I said, and with a quick turn of my head, I kissed him full on the mouth. He smiled beneath my lips, and kissed me back with ardor. When he pulled away, he was grinning brightly.

All eyes were on us now, and I blushed in embarrassment. I shoveled more soup into my mouth, but a piece of potato fell onto my lap. Legolas laughed quietly, picked up the vegetable, and plopped it back into my mouth.

"They're like children, aren't they?" I heard Aragorn say to Gimli.

"Worse than that. They're like newlyweds," the dwarf disagreed.

"I was going to say rutting rabbits," Eowyn muttered.

There was a very uncomfortable silence as we all looked at her. And then we collectively burst into laughter.


	14. Shambles

The day passed slowly, and as the sun began to set, painting the scenes around us gold and red and purple, Theoden called for a final halt.

Legolas brought up the question of sleeping arrangements as he slung a tent from Arod's back. I knew I could easily sleep with Eowyn, who had already offered, although I had politely declined simply because I knew this dilemma would arise.

Legolas and I had no trouble sleeping together the last two nights because the arrangement was discreet. Only three other people knew of that fact, and it was easy that way. However, if we shared a tent tonight, our romance would become public, and I was not sure if I was prepared for that.

I had never enjoyed attention. Stares burned me from the inside, questions made my head spin. If I heard my name used by someone who did not know I was listening, a feeling like ice would fill me from my feet to my head. 

And as much as I wished to be able to sleep besides Legolas and enjoy his company, the rumors that would spring up were sure to tell that story wrong.

The entire fiasco made my head hurt.

"Love, if it would be easier for you...," he began, watching me cautiously as I sat on the ground, my injured leg lying out before me. The pain in my calf was beginning to bite at my temper. 

"No, Legolas. It's fine," I growled, and I watched as he began to pitch our tent. 

I felt quite useless as I sat on the ground, leaning on our packs. I wasn't used to being so injured that I was rendered incapacitated. I had my fair share of maladies and wounds in my life time. A variety of broken bones, cuts, and fevers had all left their marks. But never once had any of such instances kept me from where I wished to be. 

Legolas made quick work of our small tent. After depositing our packs inside and laying out a single bed roll, he came to me and helped me up. I stood on my right foot, and set my arms around his neck. Gently, he put a hand on the small of my back, pulling me little closer to him. 

The look in his eyes was startling. He was clearly hungry, clearly in want of something. I raised an eyebrow in challenge.

He brought his lips to my ear, his head hovering before me. He opened his mouth a little, as if to whisper something to me like he sometimes did. Instead, he let his lips close over the outside fold of my ear. I sighed in ecstasy, tilting my head towards his hold on me. 

As his tongue slowly traced the crease in my ear, I felt my breathing falter.

"Legolas," I panted, feeling a fire rise up within me. I was not ready for this. I knew that I could not handle the way he was skewing my senses. 

"Yes?" he whispered, still sliding his tongue along my ear, now tickling my ear lobe. 

"Legolas, please...," I squeaked. I needed him to stop. 

"Yes?" he asked again, moving his lips back up along my ear. Suddenly, he was at the slightly pointed tip of my ear. I choked on my pleasure, and the fire roared within me. 

But the voice was screaming in my head. The memories were breaking through. The world was burning all around me. 

And I slipped from his grasp, just like how the world had let me slip through its own fingers.

The difference, though, was that Legolas noticed me when I fell.

In a last attempt to regain my balance, I kicked out my left leg, and the searing pain in my calf only incapacitated me further. 

Half lying on the ground, I shut my eyes in shame and pain. My head was spinning with the aftermath of all the things that had just happened. 

"Cal?" Legolas was asking repeatedly, kneeling beside me. He had taken one of my hands into his, and was stroking my forehead delicately with the other. 

I looked up at him, blinking many times to restore my vision.

"Meleth, are you alright?" he asked. 

I nodded once, and looked to our intertwined hands. Slowly, I pulled my hand free. Shock passed over Legolas' face.

"Legolas, I'm sorry," I whispered, attempting to stand, "I need a moment to be...alone," I said, allowing all the guilt I felt fall forward into my words.

He gave me a pitiful, broken look. It nearly tore me apart to see such a thing in his eyes, but I knew that I needed a break. I needed space to breathe, a place where my thoughts were not made up purely of him. 

He helped me to stand, and then he let go of me.

"Calahdra, I'm sorry. I lost control...," He said, trying desperately to get me to look at him. But I felt empty in that moment. I shook my head and turned away, walking on my leg even though the pain was near to crippling. 

"Cal, you can not walk on that leg. Please, let me help...,"

The emptiness imploded, and out spilled all the darkness that I had held within. The anger, the pain, the mounting stress that was building into something I had refrained from releasing. And as I let go of it, I knew that it was the worst thing I would ever do. But I couldn't stop it. I couldn't hold onto to this anymore.

"NO!" I screamed. I could feel the heads turning towards us. I could feel the surprise those who had heard me felt. But I didn't care anymore. I couldn't feel anything else anymore.

Legolas looked at me. 

"Calahdra," he pleaded, but I was shaking my head fervently once more. 

"No," I said again, lowering my voice to a growl.

"Calahdra Medlinniel, listen to me! Look at me!" Legolas' voice was rising with some power I could not identify. The terrible energy radiating from his voice left me no choice but to obey his command.

"What madness is this?" he murmured, striding to me and holding my face in his hands. "What has taken hold of you, meleth?" he asked. 

I shook my head again, mouthing that pointless refusal again and again. 

I did not understand what I was doing. I did not know why I felt the way I did. As if something had taken hold of me, tearing things from me that I would rather forget. 

"Calahdra, tell me what is wrong and I will help you," he said. 

I knew he spoke the truth. I knew it with all my heart. But suddenly I felt so angry. So incredibly angry. Angry at everything. Angry at the soldiers who had mocked me. Angry at Meleare for throwing me from her and causing this wretched injury. Angry at my mother, for her downright cruelty towards me. Angry at my father for abandoning his family, for abandoning me. Angry at my brothers, for what they had done to me. Angry at myself, for feeling all of these things at once. For being so exceedingly weak and for acting the way I did. And worst of all, angry at Legolas, for no reason at all.

"There is always a reason, Calahdra," Legolas murmured.

"What?" I asked, my voice cracking. And then I realized that I had spoken all of the things I had thought aloud. 

"There is always a reason for the things we feel. And if you are angry at me, if you truly have taken offense to something I have done, tell me and I will right it," he said.

"But...but I don't know why I am angry at you," I said, suddenly very confused. 

"Well, for one, I touched you...I touched you in a way that I shouldn't have," he said.

"Well, yes, but that was a problem because I let it hurt me so," I said, immediately ruling that possible reason out. 

"Then I can see no other reason," he said. 

"Neither can I," I whispered, pressing my forehead to his chest. He held me lightly, and he rested his chin against the top of my head. He was rubbing slow circles onto my back, and he was soothing me with gentle words. Despite all that, I was shaking in a violent matter similar to a seizure. 

"What else is troubling you?" he asked.

"I...I guess I am afraid...," I whispered.

"Yes, I think we all are, Calahdra,"

"No, not afraid of war or battle. I am afraid that my injury will keep me from war or battle,"

Legolas parted from me at once, his eyes teeming with what seemed like fury.

"Keep you from battle?" he asked, his voice rising.

"Well, yes....If we are attacked anytime soon, I won't be much help," I explained, my tremors becoming spasms now as I felt the anger roll off of him.

"You thought, that even with your injury, you might still be able to fight?" he asked, sounding incredulous. 

"Well, yes, it is my duty," my voice was become increasingly weaker, and my heartbeat increasing in tempo with each passing moment. 

"Enough with duty!" he yelled, and I thought for sure that his brilliant green eyes had turned black. "Calahdra, you speak not of duty, or honor, or valiance. You speak of suicide!" 

I winced at his words, and the anger suddenly shot back up through me in a way that burned my skin and made my innards crawl.

"Do not say such things to me!" I parried, pointing a finger at him. My injury was screaming in protest, but I ignored it. 

"I will say it, Calahdra, for it is the truth! You are too wrapped up in your own misery to see that what you wish for is death! If the enemy strikes Helm's Deep, you will perish like all the others!" he yelled back. Our argument had now switched to elvish, for many people had now congregated near by, clearly curious about the fight arising. 

"My place is beside my King, on the field of battle. Not on some pallet in a healer's ward! Do you not think that I know what my chances of living are? Do you not know that I have accepted death as a plausible future?" 

"No Calahdra. I do not think that you have accepted death. I think you have embraced it," he hissed, and I saw a pain arise in his eyes as he said the words that mirrored my own.

I turned away at once, feeling the misery he had spoken of overwhelm me. "You treat me like a child, Legolas, and you are acting like a pig. You disgust me," 

I stalked away, feeling loathsome and empty and lonely and ashamed. My limp did not carry me very far, however, and I collapsed not far from our own tent but out of sight from it. 

It seemed like an eternity until someone found me, but in that expanse of broken, burning time, I realized that the greatest pain of all was not derived from the things he had told me, nor the look in his eyes or the fury in his voice. It was the fact that he had not come to find me. That he had let me go just at the moment when I truly needed him most. 

Of course, I was too prideful to admit that the pain I felt now was of my own creation. He had, and I realized this now, spoken only the truth. It was my own fault that I let it affect me the way that it did.

I could have let go, so long ago. I could have accepted those parts of my past that had etched their way into the deepest parts of my soul. Instead, I had fought them with every inch of my being, and a constant struggle between light and dark had ensued within me ever since. 

I had never asked for those things. I had never wished for those things to happen. Maybe that was the reason that I could not seem to wish them away. 

For the things we never dream of are often the things that change us the most. 

It was a long while until I heard footfalls coming my way. Someone entered the tent behind me, and they must have noticed my silhouette, for they backed out of the tent quite quickly. I heard them rounding the small tent, and then they stopped, just beside me. 

"Calahdra?" 

It was Aragorn. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

"Calahdra?" he asked again, kneeling before me. I opened my eyes, and it seemed that they had been closed for so long that the dimming sunlight burned my irises. 

"What happened?" he murmured, placing a hand against my face. 

"Legolas and I...we...," I couldn't finish the sentence. I couldn't face the truth of what had happened between us.

"You fought?" he finished for me, looking concerned, but as calm as ever.

I nodded dejectedly. 

His hand moved to my calf, which was splayed out beneath me. "Were you walking on this?" 

I nodded once more. 

He gave me a gentle, and yet somehow piercing look. "Calahdra...,"

"Please don't," I whimpered, "Legolas already...," but I didn't finish. I looked away.

"Calahdra, he loves you. Whatever he said, I'm sure he said it...,"

"...because he cares for me," I finished for him, some amount of sarcasm tainting my voice. 

"And that is the truth, Calahdra. Do not doubt it," he said, his voice rising somewhat with caution.

"I just, I never thought...," I shook my head once, attempting to collect my thoughts. "I feel like a fool for rushing into this so fast. I knew all along that allowing myself to act on my feelings, no matter how undeniable they might have been, would only lead to pain. We love each other so much, Aragorn, and yet we know so little about each other," 

Aragorn brought his hand to face again, silencing me.

"I myself can relate only a little. There has only been one whom I have loved in my life. I knew, from the moment I saw her, that I would be able to love no other. Yet our love was forbidden, and so I buried my own feelings. And although I knew her for many years, nearly all my life, I never said a word to reveal the way I felt. It was only recently that we acted on our shared feelings. Only when the threat of losing each other caused us to pursue a love we knew would never manifest into anything.

"So much of me regrets what I allowed myself to do, Calahdra," he said, looking into my eyes. The ache there was obvious, and his hand was clutched around something hanging from his neck. "With nearly all my soul, I wish I could erase the things I said to her, the ways that I touched her. For she will pass into Valinor, with all of her people, and all that she will take with her is a memory and a shadow of what could have been. 

"But I know that I would never have forgiven myself had I let her go," he whispered. Looking back at me, he said "You know, deep within yourself, that you would never forgive yourself if you let him go," he told me. 

I found my breathing become ragged at what I heard him say. My heart became heavy with what he had admitted to me, and also with the truth of his words. 

If this elleth he spoke of passed on to the undying lands, then Aragorn would remain, lonely and broken, for all his life. If he lived on to claim the throne of Gondor then he would have no choice but to take another. And that, I was sure, would seem like the greatest of betrayals to him. 

"Who is she?" I asked, "This elf you speak of,"

"Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of Imladris," he said, and the adoration in his voice nearly matched the pain.

I knew of her, of the daughter of Elrond. She was a quarter Elven and therefore she was like me. We both had been born with a choice; a choice to either remain immortal and undying forever, or to become mortal and pass on into shadow before our time was done. But the difference between us was that she loved a mortal, and I had fallen for an elf. If she turned her back on her people, and turned back to Aragorn, then she would perish as he would. I, on the other hand, had been dealt an easier hand. If Legolas and I survived, and our love held fast, then we would have an eternity together.

I understood how Aragorn's fate pained him. By revealing their feelings for each other, Arwen was faced with a terrible choice. Either she would pass on into eternity without him, never to love another and forced to accept the fact that he would eventually find another and die, or to become mortal and die with him after only a few short years of happiness, with all her family lost and gone across the sea.

I felt a great wave of pity for this man. 

And suddenly my own problems did not seem so great.

"Aragorn, you told her to leave, didn't you?" I asked him.

He nodded.

"I think that that was the worst thing you could have done. You could have lied to her, told her you that you had lost your feelings for her. She could have believed you, for you are mortal, and mortal hearts are swift and faltering. Lying would have been a gentler course. Even pleading for her to stay with you would have been kinder to her. But instead, you have broken both your hearts, and even if she turns back now she will be faced with the pain of disobeying you. 

"If your last request to her was to abandon you, then how will she ever be able to trust her heart again?" 

Aragorn looked at me, and tears suddenly welled in the corners of his regal eyes.

"You are right," he said, and he looked away in the setting sun, his face looking more weathered than ever. 

"Have faith, Aragorn. Even if what I say is true-and be warned, I clearly know little when it comes to the ways of the heart,-then I think she will love you yet. I think she will come back to you before the end," 

Aragorn looked back at me. To see such a mighty man at the edge of falling to shambles before me was a wrenching experience. But I knew from recent experience that love was more powerful than strength or birth rights. Even the mightiest man could not contest the power of one's heart. 

He nodded once, pressed a hand to his heart, and stood, offering me a hand. I took it and brought myself up clumsily on one foot. 

"Do you know where he is?" I asked warily. 

With a nod, Aragorn said, "Last I saw him, he had taken a walk," 

My eyes fell. 

"Have faith, Calahdra. Let him walk off his feelings. In the meanwhile, join us for dinner,"

I nodded once more and took his arm. Together, we made it to the fire outside his tent. Gimli, Eowyn, and Mithrandir were already there. It was clear that rumors of our spat had already reached their ears, for they said nothing of Legolas or his absence throughout supper.

After a relatively quiet meal, Aragorn helped me back to my tent. It was empty, which brought with it a landslide of emotions, including both remorse and relief. 

I dressed myself for sleep and slid within the single bedroll long before sleep usually claimed me. But I found peace in the warmth of the fur and linen. I pressed my head into the folds of the material, breathing in the smell of horse and wood smoke and sunshine. All of these scents were a comfort to me.

For a while, I let my mind wander around anything other than Legolas. I replayed the day's events in my mind, all up to our fight. I tried to figure out what I could have done to calm Meleare, and how I could have dealt with the situation better. This was a game I often played with myself, being introspective and self-critical about the events of a day. It helped me fall asleep, I had found. 

The moment the tent flap was pulled aside, I was torn from my reverie and I sat bolt upwards, the knife I had hidden beneath my pillow in my hand.

"Calahdra, it is I," Legolas said, and I lowered my weapon. He stooped, tied the tent closed, and came to kneel beside me. There was a glimmer of remorse in his eyes, as well as a sadness I could not identify. I placed my knife back beneath my pillow.

"Are you well?" he asked, his hands clasped on his knees. 

I nodded, saying nothing. 

He appraised me for a few moments, staring at me with his brilliant eyes. It seemed that words did not contain the emotions that we felt, and so the tent remained eerily silent, our lips unmoving as we sized each other up. 

Eventually he sighed and placed a hand on my brow. "I am going to go sit by the fire,"

I gave him a blank look and nodded once. 

In his absence, the sun set, casting shadows all about me. Sleep came to me grudgingly, and it was late when Legolas came to bed as well. He was quite graceful in his attempt to join me with out awaking me, but even in sleep his presence caused my pulse to skyrocket, and I awoke just long enough to feel him wrap his arms around me and bury his face in my hair. I smiled, but his words still chafed against my heart. 

Even the after-waves of anger and unrest could not keep me from loving him. 

I dreamed of happier days that night.  



	15. Play

We reached Helm's Deep three or so hours later, and as we climbed the great stone Causeway, I watched Legolas and Gimli's eyes widen with wonder.   
  
The looks in their eyes mirrored my own the first time I had beheld Rohan's great fortress. I had been quite young, and had tagged along with my father on one of his military escapades through the countryside. I remember having clung to my mother's dress, seated before her on her steed, and then turning as my father patted my arm. Before me had stood the great fort of Helm Hammerhand, tucked away into a fold of the mountains and overseeing the Snowbourne and its estuaries. Ever had it been the stronghold of Rohan, protecting our people in times of famine, plague, and war.  
  
I was much larger now, and several visits had lessened my wonder. Helm's Deep, as impressive a monolith as it may be, was also a cage. It was the final grave of so many of my ancestors, and no cheer could arise from that thought.  
  
I could tell now that it was packed to the core, for the cacophony of five thousand bodies rose up from the fortress like a fume. I remembered then a bit of gossip I heard from several general exiting Meduseld: that those of the Westfold had fled to Helm's Deep when the enemy was upon them. So many of their people had died, though, and the loss was sure to be in the ten thousands.   
  
Our party cantered inside, and once within the walls we dismounted our weary steeds and handed them to grooms and stable boys.  
  
I slung my packs, all of which having miraculously survived the fight, onto my back and beckoned for Legolas to follow me. As we turned up a stair towards the Keep, I caught sight of Eowyn's face as she stood before Gimli. She asked him a question, and as he answered, I watched her world shatter.  
  
The sight of seeing someone's future wilt in a single word was not one easily forgotten, and I feared that the sudden emptiness in her eyes would forever be engraved in my heart. Her adoration of Aragorn had been clear from the start, and now that he was dead, her chance at life and love was lost.   
  
Legolas placed a hand on my back an urged me forward. I led him on, and passing through the hornburg and into the Keep, I sought out one of the small, stone antechambers reserved specifically for those of my rank. Inside were a single cot and a small desk and chair.   
  
We unpacked our things in silence, both exhausted by the events of the day. When we finished, I unsheathed my lyre and sat upon the bed. This caught Legolas' attention at once.   
  
I knew that he needed cheering up, and so I played the most heartwarming tune I knew. It was a ballad of two lovers lost in a cornfield who found there way back to each other through song. The twist, however, was that neither could sing well at all. The affect was instantaneous, for Legolas smiled throughout the song and even laughed at the most comical parts.   
  
When I finished, he applauded and kissed my cheek. "That was well played, Airiel. And you have a fantastic voice," he added, with some surprise.   
  
"You did not think I would?"  
  
"I was not under the impression that you cared to sing," he told me.  
  
I gave him a smile. "No, I don't seem like the singing type, do I?"  
  
Legolas smiled back. "Well, I certainly know better now,"   
  
Legolas joined me on the bed, his shoulder touching mine. "May I?" he asked, motioning to my lyre. I nodded and passed it to him. Legolas ran his fingers over the strings a few times, picking out several chords.  
  
"Can you play?" I asked him.  
  
"Not well," he said, quietly, and I could tell that his thoughts had returned to Aragorn.   
  
Gently, I draped my arm around his shoulders and leaned against him, pressing my nose into the hollow behind his jaw.  
  
"Meleth, tell me what you are thinking," I said to him, desperate to understand the depth of his despondency.   
  
"I...I am not so sure he is dead, Airiel. Part of me feels that he still lives. I feel that if he was truly dead, than I would not doubt my feelings of loss, for I loved him like a brother. And yet...I do doubt my feelings..." He spoke hesitantly, but with certainty.  
  
"Do you think he will return?" I asked. I trusted Legolas enough that I did not doubt his instincts.   
  
"Surely," he answered, a smile on his lips. He leaned in for a kiss, and I provided it.   
  
  
  
What little time remained of the day seemed well suited for a much needed bath. I mentioned this to Legolas, and he agreed wholeheartedly.   
  
I led Legolas through the teaming bowels of the fortress into one of the secluded hot springs reserved for military officials.   
  
"Is this a unisex spring?" he asked a little nervously. I understood the reason for the gentle waver behind his voice. He was still worried about over-stepping his bounds.   
  
"Yes," I said gently.  
  
I could make out the slight narrowing of his eyes even in the dim light of the empty springs.   
  
The hot springs themselves were situated beneath low outcroppings of rock. Each of the three pools was only about five feet at the most, and seats had been hewn around the edges. I had brought my own soap and bathing oils, but small bottles were available for use in cabinets about the bathing room.  
  
"Calahdra, I'm not sure how you plan to go about doing this...,"  
  
"I plan on bathing like everyone else, Legolas," I said.  
  
I set my collection of bottles next to the edge of the nearest pool and began to unclasp my belt when Legolas' hand caught mine.  
  
"Love...I can't do this. I want you...I want you to be comfortable with this,"   
  
I spun around to face him, prepared to fight the subject. The look in his eyes, however, rendered me speechless.  
  
"Calahdra, I would give almost anything to be with you in that way," he said quietly, motioning to the steaming pools. "But there is one exception,"   
  
I looked at him quizzically, curious about his answer.  
  
"Can you not guess? Do you not know the one thing I could never sacrifice?" he murmured, coming closer to me.  
  
I gave a single shake of my head.  
  
"You,"   
  
The way he said it took my breath away.   
  
I understood then why he had such adamant reservations as far as our more intimate moments were concerned. He would never forgive himself if he lost me because of the way he touched me, for that was certainly one of the least necessary aspects of our relationship.  
  
"Legolas, I'm not so afraid of that anymore. And besides, I wasn't suggesting we partake in...that...at the moment,"  
  
"What were you suggesting, then?" he asked, his eyebrow cocked sensually.   
  
I blanched, and feeling sheepish, I lowered my head.  
  
"I wanted to take a bath...," I muttered.  
  
"Are you sure that that was not your only intention?" he asked casually.  
  
Raising my head, I balanced Legolas' face in my hands and looked him seriously in the eye.  
  
"It was,"   
  
Legolas nodded once, and stepped away. He quickly pulled his tunic up over his head, unlaced his boots, and he then turned to the nearest pool and stepped in.   
  
I took a little more time discarding my clothing. I kept both my tunic and under breeches on and unwound my hair from the bun atop my head. I sat cross legged next to the lip of the hot spring and unwound the bandage from my leg. Legolas waded to me and ran a finger around the scab that had formed.  
  
"How does it feel?"  
  
"Alright. It seems to be healing well," I said, looking at it pensively.  
  
"Good. Now come here," he said. He wrapped his arms around my waist and tossed me unceremoniously into the water, ignoring my squeals.   
  
"That wasn't fair at all!" I accused when I resurfaced.   
  
"Who said anything abut playing fair?" he parried, and then came at me in a crouch, his arms spread wide as if to catch me.  
  
I gave him a sinister smile and crouched as well, prepared to show him just how much of a threat I could be.  
  
I dove when he was only three feet from me, but I lunged to the side, twisted around, and caught him around the middle as soon as he popped back up. With a laugh, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. He yelled in protest, and would have bucked me off if it wasn't for the spasms of laughter that were causing him to double over. I jumped down, but kept my arms around his shoulders. He secured an arm around my waist and I laughed with him until he was calm enough to stand up straight.  
  
"Ahh, you're quick lirimaer. But not that quick!"   
  
With a jerk of his arms, he sent me sprawling into the water before us. I came back up for air at once, and with a wink, I dove again. I reached out for his legs, and upon finding them, I gave his ankle a sharp tug. He stumbled into the water and I resurfaced in time to see a bewildered look on his stunning face.   
  
When he came back up, he crawled back to the ledge and sat in it, still smiling at me. I swam to him slowly and sat next to him, laying my head on his shoulder.  
  
"Mmmm...," he murmured, and he gave my hair a soft kiss. "This is lovely, Aieriel,"  
  
"I agree," I sighed.  
  
I reached back and gripped my bottles of soap. I began to lather my hair and Legolas did the same, except he used his own small vial of oil.   
  
"It has been far too long since I had a proper bath," he said, lathering is hair in a sweet smelling liquid.   
  
"And how long is since you've had a proper bath with a woman?"  
  
Legolas grinned. "Far, far too long,"  
  
I smiled back, feeling quite tingly all over. It never ceased to amaze me how the simple things he did, like murmuring a few words or smiling for a few moments, could make me feel like I had had much too much wine.   
  
I ducked under the water to rinse out my hair, but also to hide my increasing blush. When I reemerged, Legolas was staring at me peculiarly.  
  
"What is it?" I asked, feeling unsteady once more.   
  
Legolas neared me and took my hand in his, brushing a bit of lank hair from my face with the other. "You have no notion of how beautiful you are, do you?"  
  
I licked my lips nervously. "I know I'm beautiful enough to capture the interest of a prince,"   
  
"To have simply captures my interest would not have been enough to capture my heart, meleth nin," he murmured, and kissed me sweetly. I kissed him back after a moment of shock.   
  
Without pulling away, he dragged me back to the ledge and sat me on it. Kneeling before me, he continued to kiss me. I leaned forward, and pulled him as close to me as possible. Eventually, however, he pulled away.   
  
"You are tempting me to do things I shouldn't, Calahdra," he warned, looking at me heatedly.   
  
"Don't resist temptation, my love," I said simply.  
  
He gave me a doubtful look.  
  
"Trust me," I purred, "Trust me to be able to stop you,"  
  
He bit his lips and surveyed me. "I am not sure...,"  
  
"Trust me," I murmured again, making my voice silky and sensuous. I leaned forward, looking pointedly at his lips.   
  
He wavered for only a moment, and then he met my lips.  
  
The passionate kissing continued for a while more, and in those moments nothing but the heat and the closeness and the intimacy of this moment could penetrate my thoughts.  
  
Our lust was increasing rapidly, and I could feel myself wanting so much more. The edges of my mind were losing control. But I had to reign myself back in, or I would pay greatly.   
  
I was too late, though, for I could feel Legolas grappling with the same battle and losing.   
  
His hands had trailed at the edge of my tunic, and I could sense what he wanted to do. I opened my eyes, and watched his open in turn. There was a question in his eyes, and to answer it, I embraced his lips with my own one last time. With that, he began to pull my tunic up and over my head. With deliberate slowness and holding my eyes with his the entire time, he finally pulled the shirt over my head and tossed it some ways behind me.  
  
Carefully, he cradled my jaw in his hands and kissed me until the dim world around me spun with colors I didn't know existed. It was his way of saying "I love you," without spoiling the blessed silence with words.   
  
When he finally looked down, his mouth opened a little, and a small gasp escaped. For a moment, I was stunned at my self for allowing this to happen, but the astonishment passed and was replaced with warmth.   
"How could I have ever denied you this?" I asked in elvish.  
  
He looked up at me, and his hands countered his movement, settling around my breasts. Carefully, he bent his head and kissed each one, gently rubbing his thumb around the expanse of each. When he sat straight once more, I smiled. My entire body was shaking, though for what specific reasons, I could not identify.   
  
He ran his hands around my body, occasionally planting a kiss here or there. I sat as still as I could, although every once and a while he would touch me in a way that made me shudder with pleasure. When this happened, he would beam brightly at me, and then return to his inspection of my torso.   
  
When he seemed to have deemed what he had found passable, he put a hand around my waist and tugged me into the water next to him. He spun me around once, and I giggled at the gleam in his eye and the grin on his lips.  
  
"You are perfect," he said after placing me back on my ledge.  
  
"Am I?"  
  
"Without a doubt,"  
  
I smiled meekly as a blush settled on my cheeks.   
  
"Why are you blushing, love? The truth should never embarrass you,"   
  
"Yes, but...he truth, despite being as such, is often hard to believe,"  
  
Legolas placed a firm hand on my cheek and forced me to meet his gaze.  
  
"You asked me to trust you and I consented. I consented because that is what love is, Airiel. Love is to trust a person with your heart, with your soul, with everything you have. Trust me now, Calahdra. Do not deny the truth because of what has been done to you. Trust me with that memory, Calahdra. Trust me to undo what was done to you,"   
  
I looked at him for a long time.  
  
"I have never doubted you, Legolas, nor have I doubted anything you have said to me. But some things cannot be undone. Some hurts cannot be healed, no matter who may try to mend them,"   
  
Legolas looked at me with such sadness that I wished to weep. But behind the tears and the pain in his eyes there was understanding also. Just as he had never lied to me, I was incapable of lying to him. He knew as well as I that we both spoke the truth.  
  
"I wish so badly that I might heal those hurts. But perhaps you are right. Perhaps there is no going back," he said to me, his head cocked to the side in such a way that suggested he would rather not be speaking the words he said, no matter what truths lay behind them.   
  
"For no matter how badly we may wish to erase the yesterday we left behind, there is only tomorrow. There is only what lies ahead,"


	16. Rendition

I found myself watching the sunset with Legolas. Hand in hand we strolled the length of the Deeping Wall, listening to the sounds of those within the fortress. We were mostly silent, for both of our minds were turned towards war.   
  
In the depths of combat, battle was easy to me. It came naturally, much like breathing. But the hours before, my skin crawled with horror and anguish. Although I was a seasoned warrior and was well versed in the realities of pain and death, there was a part of me still trapped within a semblance of youth and naivety. My heart still ached for those who died in battle, and the thought of what orcs often did to children and woman churned my stomach to the point of illness.   
  
As I looked over those who I was sentenced to protect, those feelings arose. Legolas sensed my grief and wrapped a hand around my waist.  
  
"For all of your tough exterior and bravado, I must remember that there is still a girl inside of you. There is still a very young elleth who craves nature and peace and song," he said, his free hand stroking my face.   
  
I nodded morosely, and looked up at him.  
  
"And that is the woman I am fighting for," I said grimly.  
  
"I fight for her, also," he murmured, and he smiled gently.   
  
And I was at ease.  
  
  
  
At the suggestion of Legolas, we went searching for Gimli. We found him exactly where we thought he would be: the mess hall.  
  
As he saw us, his grim face lit into its usual smile, and the sight allowed for a little more warmth within my heart.   
  
"Well met, my friends," Gimli said as we neared. Legolas and I returned his greeting and all three of us sat at the table where the dwarf had been dining.   
  
"Are you enjoying the hospitality of Helm's Deep, master dwarf?" I asked formally. Legolas squeezed my hand beneath the table.   
  
"Very much so, proud warrior. Although, I must say, the lack of fine women in this hall is quite displeasing," he said with a twinkle in his eye and a wink to Legolas.  
  
"Master dwarf, as a Shieldmaiden, I find it prudent to tell you that I am at the liberty to kill whomever I like without question,"  
  
"Very well, I take that back. But I very much doubt that such a pretty thing as yourself would ever wish to trifle with the likes of I," Gimli said.  
  
"You think so, master dwarf? Perhaps we should test that theory. What say you?"   
  
Legolas, who had been silently sobbing in laughter beside me, raised his hand and shook his head.  
  
"Now, now. I really can't allow that,"  
  
Gimli looked genuinely disappointed, whereas I beamed in amusement to no one in particular. After the dwarf turned back to his own food, Legolas straightened his posture and composure.   
  
"Gimli, Estel is not dead," he said. The dwarf quit eating at once, which was surely a feat for him.  
  
"Pardon?" he said, looking up through his tangle of eyebrows.  
  
"I have reason to believe that Aragorn lives," Legolas repeated.  
  
"You...you do not think that he his dead?"   
  
"No,"   
  
Gimli looked dumbfounded for but a moment, and then returned to his food.  
  
"If there is one thing I have learned these past few months," he managed to say through mouthfuls of stew and ale, "it is that elves are the most cunning and deceitful of all creatures that walk this land. You, laddie, and you too, little lady," he said pointing first to Legolas and then to me with a potato-laden spoon, "are the exception,"  
  
Legolas beamed with pride and squeezed my hand. I realized then how odd Legolas and Gimli's relationship was. Dwarves and Elves had long pitted themselves against each other in pointless enmity. These two, having been companions for a while now, had clearly seen past their misconceptions of each other and found something more worthwhile to use as a basis for competition: friendship.  
  
"Now, lass, don't go smiling at anyone but Legolas like that. You don't want anyone with an arrow through their eye for returnin' the favor with somethin' more than a grin," Gimli said to me, the usual twinkle having returned to his eyes.   
  
I harrumphed and smacked his forearm playfully, but heeded his warning. Now that I had Legolas at my side, the soldiers who had once tormented me were sure to either abate their comments entirely or begin there torture anew. I fervently wished for the former, but somehow knew that the latter was a much more prominent outcome.   
  
Feeling morose, Legolas and I went in search of our own supper. As we neared the kitchens, one of the cooks stepped forward.  
  
"Calahdra?" they asked, and I looked up.  
  
It took me a moment to recognize the face, but as my memory caught up to me, a sense of wonder overtook me.  
  
"Eofel?" I asked merrily, quite surprised to see my family's old cook in Helm's Deep.  
  
The man nodded enthusiastically, and rounded the counter at which the food was served at once.  
  
"Oh, my lady," he said, and embraced me. I returned the hug, and smiled wildly. Eofel had been one of my closest friends in Fenmarch, and having known me all my life, he certainly returned my feelings.   
  
When we parted, I turned to Legolas. "Legolas, this is Eofel. He was my family's cook and a great friend of mine," I said, my face still alight with excitement.   
  
"Any friend of Calahdra's is a friend of mine, Eofel," Legolas said, placing his palm out and then over his heart in Elvish salute. Eofel returned the gesture, having learned such customs under the direction of my mother, but looked at Legolas in shock. It was clear that it had been a long time since he had seen many elves.  
  
"Eofel, mellon, tell me how it is that you are here? And what of my Adar and Naneth? How fares your family?" I asked, losing all sense of formality before my old friend.   
  
"Hush, my lady. You haven't changed a bit, have you? As inquisitive as ever, clearly. But give me a moment. Let me see if I might take leave for a moment, and I will join you. We have much to talk about; there is much I might wish to learn of you, as well,"   
  
I nodded impatiently.  
  
"Here, take what you wish and find a seat. I'll join you as soon as I can," Eofel said, and Legolas and I complied.  
  
"You seem to be in high spirits," Legolas commented.  
  
"Well, as you might imagine, seeing Eofel is quite a shock. He had always been quite kind to me, and I love him dearly. But why he is here and not in Fenmarch is beyond my reckoning. He had been employed by family long enough that I thought him to be indispensible," I explained.  
  
Legolas seemed as confused as I in the matter, and both of us began to eat with very serious expressions on our faces.  
  
A little while later, Eofel joined us.   
  
"There, Calahdra. Now I'm prepared for your interrogation," he said, and I noticed that he had removed his soiled apron.  
  
"Well, the first question is obvious. Why are you here and not in Fenmarch?" I asked, putting down my silverware and turning my full attention to him.  
  
Eofel's expression withered, alarming me as well as Legolas.  
  
"I thought you'd ask that first, although I was hoping you wouldn't. I should have known better, after watching over you for so many years," he said quietly.  
  
He looked up at me and cocked his head. "What I have to tell you certainly isn't the sort of thing you're going to like to hear," he said. "Forgive me, Calahdra. Please, do not think less of me once you've thought on what I have to say,"   
  
I studied Eofel, truly terrified now. What could he have to tell me that was so abhorrent that he would ask for my forgiveness beforehand?  
  
"You know your mother's temper, Calahdra. She does not suffer change well, and when she gets into one of her moods...well," he trailed off, and I nodded, knowing exactly of what he spoke.  
  
"Only a few days after you and your guard party had left for Edoras, she learned that your father's second in command, Heorfen, had been given control of the muster of Fenmarch. This of course had no affect on her control as Lady of Fenmarch, but she had always assumed that your father's position would be passed on to Lenwe,"  
  
"That does not surprise me, considering it is the way of elves," I interjected beginning to understand what direction Eofel's story was taking.   
  
Eofel nodded. "That may be so, and please, take no offense to this, but it is certainly _not_ the way of the Rohirrim. As far as military positions are concerned, entitlement is based on experience, not lineage, save those involving members of the royal family, of course.  
  
"You're mother took offense to this, of course. In fact, I have never seen her so livid in my life. She petitioned immediately, sending word to Meduseld as well as to the courts in Fenmarch. She stormed about the manor daily, hissing and cussing. She broke almost every object they came into her reach in anger, and none of us were capable of abating her rage.  
  
"When word returned, the answer was no, and although none of us, "us" being of course your family's servants, were surprised or offended by this, your mother's rage increased at least tenfold.  
  
"She caused such a fuss, that those of the fief and even those in the Fendowns rallied against her. They protested this and petitioned that. Some threatened to withdraw their food tax and alms. Several of the stable boys quit, and both of Huor's groomsmen disappeared from Fenmarch all together.  
  
"Your mother withdrew her petition after a few days of this, hoping that that might qualm the villagers rising malcontent. But it did nothing of the sort. In fact, I daresay it made the situation worse.   
  
"Two nights later, someone set fire to the gardens. The flames were doused quickly, but the very thought of what the arsonist intended catapulted your mother into what I might say was the most terrible of fits I have ever seen. She sent heralds throughout the countryside declaring that all those involved in the coup cease there efforts to undermine her authority and pay alms to her at once. I myself am not sure that she was entirely sane when she declared this, but alas, it was done nevertheless.   
  
"The affect was instantaneous. Letters poured in threatening your mother. Some demanded that she go into exile, others stated that they no longer saw her fit to rule and that they had sent word of her treachery to the high courts in Meduseld. I even caught wind of one threatening to burn the manor to the ground after locking her inside.  
  
"Her fear and mistrust rose to the highest of levels, and she stormed through the manor a final time, this time threatening everyone of us to either pledge our undying fealty or to leave.   
  
Eofel paused, his face flushed and crumpled in misery. My own face was frozen into an expression of terror. I had known my mother to be cold, and sometimes cruel, but I had never thought that she could reach levels of treachery such as these. I felt tears coming to my eyes. How she could treat the people she had ruled, and led, had sheltered with such cruelty, I had no idea.  
  
"Calahdra, please understand me when I say that I have loved your family from the moment I stepped foot in your household. I have watched your brothers as well as you grow up. I watched your father's body carried into the house after his accident. I watched you leave, Calahdra. I saw every moment of your life play out. I had nothing but respect for your entire family before a month or so ago, even when your mother had had one of her average fits. But, I had to leave. It was my duty...it was the only way. I could not stand by as such madness ran rampant among my people,"  
  
I watched Eofel for a while, feeling such sadness that I could have wept was it not for the shock I felt also.   
  
"Erdolliel betrayed us all. Those of the fief and of Fendown had always found her strange, to be guarded, even cold. Many rued her heritage. Those who worked in the manor knew her to be cold, sometimes cruel. But we never thought her capable of such disrespect,"  
  
I shook my head. "Nor did I,"  
  
"You believe my tale?" Eofel asked, surprised.  
  
I placed my hand over his, feeling warmth for him. My mother had driven him from his home, and all that he had known had been left behind. "Of course I do," I told him.  
  
Eofel smiled. "You had your mother's looks, dear one, and that we sometimes feared. But you have your father's heart, and all of the kindness and courage one could possess as well. Though Rohan may evade you on the outside, your heart fits all of Rohan within it," he said in Rohirric.  
  
"So where now are Emmali and the girls?" I asked him. His wife and their three daughters were as dear to me as he was.  
  
"We arrived here a day before those of the Westenment, and so they were able to claim some refuge within the caves,"  
  
"And how was your journey here?"  
  
"I think your question should be rephrased as "How did we make it here in one piece?" Well, Calahdra, I must tell you. Eomer may have been banished, but he has not ceased protecting his people. A band of his men watched over us as we passed through the Eastenmet, but left us when we came near Edoras. We had no trouble from then on, fortunately, but I fear that the families that left after us were not so lucky,"  
  
I looked at him questioningly.   
  
"We have not seen any of them, and we arrived nearly a week ago,"  
  
I looked at my hands lying loosely on the table, which drew themselves up into fists as the meaning of his words assailed me.   
  
Eofel placed a hand on my fist. "Do not look so angry, dear. We left Fenmarch knowing full well that there was not a single place in Rohan that was better protected. With at least half of your father's men stationed there at any given time, we are the safest in all of Rohan!"  
  
"Don't say that too loudly, Eofel. We don't want to start a fight,"  
  
"No...but with you on our side, we're sure to win,"  
  
I smiled, and laughed happily in order to clear the tears from my eyes.   
  
"But tell me of yourself, Calahdra. Much has happened to you, clearly," he said in Westron, looking pointedly at both Legolas and my Shieldmaiden garb.   
  
I smiled lightly, and looked up at Legolas.  
  
"That, my friend, is a very long story,"  
  
  
  
After spending an hour or so more with Eofel swapping stories, Legolas and I retired to bed. Theoden had made it clear that he would send for should he need me, so I as able to relax without fear of shirking my duties.   
  
I changed into my usual tunic and leggings and sat at the chair beside me and Legolas' bed, balancing my lyre in my lap. I stroked its strings idly, my thoughts still caught up in Eofel's tale. Legolas stood nearby, admiring me as he combed out his hair.  
  
I thought of my brothers, hoping that they were well despite what my mother had done. Although I did not love them, I had enough compassion for everyone I knew to hope that my brothers were alright. I had always wondered what a true relationship between siblings was like.  
  
"Legolas?" I asked.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you have any siblings?" I asked, hoping that he might be able to grant me some insight in to that mysterious topic.  
  
"I do," he responded, settling beside me on the bed. "Would you like me to tell you about them?"  
  
I nodded earnestly, still pulling at a few chords.  
  
"I am the oldest of my siblings, and therefore the heir to my father's realm. I have no brothers, of which I am sometimes glad. But I do have three younger sisters,"  
  
I raised my eyebrows. Somehow, this intrigued me a great deal more than I expected it to. It did explain a lot, though, including Legolas' gentleness and sensitivity. His protectiveness, as well, I thought.  
  
"They are a great deal younger than I, and I dote on them greatly. But do to our differences in age, I find that I have little in common with them, especially the two youngest.   
  
"Miriel and Santiel are the youngest, and only about four hundred years apart. They are playful little girls, always getting into some sort mischief. They enjoy their privileges as princesses very much, although they often complain about the responsibilities,"  
  
"What do they look like?" I asked.  
  
"They have hair much the same color as I, and the same eyes. But they look much more like my father, I think, as far as the rest of their looks are concerned. They are easy to mistake as twins, they are so alike in temperament and appearance.  
  
"Indilwen is the nearest to my age, being only eight hundred years my junior. She is...complicated. As the eldest daughter, she has great responsibility. She takes her position far too seriously, and she is reserved because of it. She is a dark beauty, and she seems almost alien to those who do not know her.  
  
Legolas looked down at his lap, seeming sorrowful. "She has led a hard life, Calahdra, and she sometimes does not wish to live it. Because I am the closest to her I understand her better than anyone else I know of. I have tried with all my might to force some light back into her. But I fear she is lost. I fear she will not return from her reverie.  
  
"That is why I am so wary of you, Calahdra. I see the same darkness, though not as much of it, within you. The same evils that were done to you were done to my sister, and she bears the same amount of shame because of it.   
  
"If I lost her, I would lose much of the joy in my life, for although she is often silent, and seems despondent, there are moments where she is coaxed out of her façade and she acts much the same as you. She has wisdom and a grace that few ellith possess. But her faer fades nonetheless, and it breaks my heart,"  
  
I reached out to him then, taking his hand in mine. I knew then how much pain I was causing him, despite the pleasure he claimed I resulted in.   
  
"To see you go through that very same pain...and to know what it could result in....to have such a clear vision of where the path you could take leads, meleth. It haunts my every thought,"   
  
I breathed deep, and leaned over so that my head rested over his heart. He released my hands for a moment in order to lift me over onto his lap. He placed my lyre on the chair I had occupied, and then laid down with me, still keeping me close to his chest.   
  
"I am sorry, Legolas," I whispered, a little ashamed. I had never meant to hurt him, nor had I thought that my own evils haunted him so.  
  
Our bare feet tangled together, and our hands were trapped and twisted between our chests. Legolas nestled his face into the crown of my head, and I breathed in the scent of the locks of hair lying on his shoulder.   
  
"Amin mella le," I whispered, and he whispered the same sentiment back.   
  
We fell asleep that way, exhausted and worn out in a way no words could describe. All that mattered was that we were together, and no memory of war or the bloodshed to come could rob such a perfect statement from us.


	17. Fortifications

My father had impressed the importance of knowing how to defend oneself upon me from a very young age. As long as I could remember, I had always been able to wield some sort of weapon, as well as the having ability to ride a horse. In this way, I had been a warrior from a very young age. I had been, in many ways, trained to kill. And as much as my father would have liked to shelter his darling little girl and sequester her away from war and death, he, as Marshall of Fenmarch, knew better than that. His pragmatism eventually saved his life as well as mine countless times.   
  
But the moment my mother had mentioned sending me to Edoras, I had known where my destiny had lied. I had gone on patrol with my father and had travelled with his Muster enough to have seen a vast amount of war. The images of what the Enemy had done to my people were forever engrained in my head, and although I would have anything to have forgotten them, the constant reminder of what my father was fighting for drove me to wish to be involved in the war as well.  
  
A year and a half after the night I had saved my father's life, my father coerced my mother into allowing me to go on patrol with him. The fighting was at a lull, at least for the time being, and his company had been assigned to travel to a stronghold on the Gondorian border and assist with whatever was needed.   
  
When I had been younger, opportunities much like this had occurred often. My father would take me with him for a week or two and then return me to home safe and in one piece. He had always taken Lenwe and Huor with him at my age, and my father, being a man who believed quite deeply in equality, saw no reason why I should not ride with him either.   
  
I had been apprehensive at first, for the memory of the night our camp had been attacked still played out within my head. But I came nonetheless, seeking honor and adventure like any other child my age.   
  
We were attacked by a raiding party of Easterlings within three nights of our journey. I killed many men that night, but I had found it easier. The fact that I had been defending myself, my fellow soldiers, and my country was much easier to comprehend after 18 months of life had passed me by.   
  
My presence caused many of the soldier's to be at deep unease. I was a young lady, of course, and to see me with the same bloodlust and murder in my eyes and in my very soul that they had came as a great shock to them. But they had enough respect for my father to not to question his intentions or mine, and eventually I earned their respect. I was a skilled fighter, no matter how young I was, and my elvish blood gave me qualities that no man possessed. In this way, I bested many of them and they honored me for it.   
  
And from that day forward, I was a dedicated soldier of Rohan. Of course, my mother hated the prospect of me being so skilled in a man's trade, and a deadly one at that. So, in order to appease both my mother and my father, I spent a month at home and a month abroad for the next two years.   
  
But time passed quickly, and as the war intensified exponentially, the world became darker and more menacing. My mother, still having possessed enough love for me that she wished for my safety, sent me to Meduseld, where she thought I might be safer, under the pretense that I was to be a handmaid. I became anything but, refusing to throw away my duty and abilities on her behalf.   
  
And now I was here, standing on the ramparts of Helm's Deep, watching a blood-lit sunrise climb over the expanse of the hazy sky. I could feel battle nearing, and the feeling was like a knife, slowly clawing through the folds of my skin, hacking steadily at my bones, and splitting the very sinew from my flesh.   
  
Legolas was elsewhere, having been summoned by Theoden. I was surprised when the message had arrived telling Legolas to go and not I, but the messenger explained that Theoden wished for me to rest as much as possible due to my still healing injury. I could not rest though, and I ached to be at his side.   
  
Eventually, I gave up, and went back to my quarters. I dressed in my light armor and brought only a few knives. The haunting chill of the battle to come was still quite weak and so I felt relatively at ease with only my slight defenses.  
  
I went then to the Keep, where Theoden's headquarters were. He stood crouched over a table laden with maps and scrolls. He was caught up in a discussion with several generals and advisors, and so I hung back, feeling a little lost. It never ceased to amaze me just how little I was accustomed to my position, and for all of my forced, broken grace, the responsibility of simply knowing where I was supposed to stand was daunting. But he turned just as I paused, and upon seeing me, he nodded. I sighed, feeling at ease.  
  
"I did not think that you would remain idle for long, Calahdra," he said, a small smile coming to his weathered face.  
  
"No, my liege,"  
  
"Well, in that case please see to it that you are fed," he said, gesturing to a small table of cheeses and mead, "and that Snowmane is settled,"  
  
I nodded. I bypassed the food, feeling not at all hungry, and went straight to the stables.  
  
Upon assuring that Snowmane was well bedded in a sound and roomy stall, I entertained him for a while before seeing to Meleare.   
  
_"Ahh, it is good to see you, Calahdra,"_ she said, snuffling my hair.  
  
 _"Likewise,"_ I said, combing her forelock and stroking her muzzle. I had missed my darling mare greatly, and the sight of her eased my growing nerves.  
  
I left her after a few minutes, suspecting that Theoden may have need of me. When I returned, word had been left to me that I was to see that several of the maps were returned to the scroll room.   
  
When I gathered up the scrolls and placed them into the appropriate hands ten minutes later, Theoden had returned with his advisors and was pouring over the remaining maps once more. I watched their muttered arguing and frantic movements for but a moment when the large doors to the Keep were thrust open and an ill looking man entered.  
  
My heart leapt as I saw Aragorn saunter forward, looking a great deal more careworn and quite injured.   
  
Legolas walked behind him closely, appearing concerned for his friend but also delighted that he had returned.  
  
Theoden went to Aragorn and saluted him.  
  
"How can this be?" my King asked.   
  
"I fell a great distance, but some greater power broke my fall," Aragorn replied, and upon seeing me, only a few yards behind my King, his eyes smiled, and I understood.  
  
"But I have darker news to share, if you will bear it,"  
  
"If it is of the utmost importance, than indeed,"  
  
"So it is," Aragorn said, and a seat as well as water and bread were found for him at once.  
  
"I fell from a great height into the river and was carried some ways from where we were ambushed. But when I awoke, none other than Brego, the late Prince Theodred's steed was beside me. He carried me far by the road the women and children had followed until a great host of orcs and Urukai and other demons of Saruman's command were before us. They marched along the same path we had thought to take, and at the sight of them, Brego carried me here with as much haste as the greatest of horses,"  
  
The shock and terror within the room was so great that one could feel it settling upon their benumbed limbs.   
  
"A great host you say?" Theoden asked, gaining his composure before any of us.  
  
"All of Isengard is emptied,"  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Ten thousand strong at least,"  
  
Gasps reverberated off of the granite walls.  
  
"Ten thousand?" Theoden asked, disbelieving.   
  
"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of men. They will be here by nightfall," Aragorn explained.  
  
The silence, though thick, was brief. "Let them come," was Theoden's resolute reply, and with that, the preparations for war began.  
  
In the mess of people and horses and weaponry, I was able to catch from Theoden that I was to see that Aragorn was looked after and then to find him on the ramparts, where he would be overseeing the fortifications.   
  
I led Aragorn to one of the antechambers off of the main hall of the Keep as Legolas brought his kit and a servant fetched food and drink.  
  
As the door closed, I embraced him at once. He held me gently in return, and I could tell that although he was happy to see me, it was also clear that he was in a great deal of pain.   
  
"You were greatly missed, Estel," I told him when I let him go. "You gave us all a right scare,"  
  
"And I am sorry for that, my lady," he said, sadness in is voice, "but I am well, at least for the time being, and of that I am glad,"  
  
"All of us are," I said, and then motioned for him to sit. When a pitcher of water and some cheese and bread arrived, I saw to it that Aragorn had eaten. Legolas soon arrived with a spare change of clothes and his medical kit and I watched as Legolas tended to his old friend. Aragorn's injuries did not appear to be much besides a gash on his forehead and another on his arm until he removed his ruined tunic. A great purple bruise covered much of his chest. I assumed it was from the impact of hitting the water, and it looked extremely painful.  
  
When Legolas had done all he could, I volunteered to return the tray and pitcher, allowing Aragorn to change his clothes. I could also tell the Aragorn wished to speak to Legolas in private, and I knew that Legolas would appreciate my scarcity at least for the time being.   
  
As I neared the kitchens, a group of soldiers, having come from the armory down the way, walked past me. Their mutters stopped abruptly as they walked past me, and I could sense them stop and turn.  
  
"You're the Shieldmaiden, aren't you?" One of them asked in Rohirric, his accent thick with a northern cadence.   
  
I stopped and turned, nodding to one of the three men. "I am,"  
  
The men exchanged surprised glances.   
  
"How long has it been since you took the oath?" The same man asked again, seeming genuinely curious.   
  
"Three months," I said, though cringing internally.   
  
The men exchanged more whispers, and when they looked back at me, I saw respect in their eyes instead of the lust or pity I was accustomed to.   
  
"You are a brave young woman then, to have subjected yourself to such a profession," another one of the men said, and I bowed my head in pride.  
  
"I thank you for that, good sirs," I said, a little embarrassedly. Remembering my manners quire suddenly, I looked back at the men. "Tell me, what are your names?"  
  
The first man to have spoken declared himself to be Garthwine, and the others were Cadern and Gilhirn. I thanked them once more before they left.  
  
When I returned to the antechamber where Aragorn was resting, I found Legolas watching over him from a nearby chair. The careworn man had fallen asleep on the lone cot, and I smiled a little, figuring that he greatly deserved whatever rest he could manage.   
  
Upon seeing me, Legolas reached out and I sat on the chair next to him. He laid his head on my shoulder and I turned to kiss his brow.   
  
"I have never known a more courageous man in all my life," he said quietly, and I nodded in agreement.   
  
"How is he doing?" I asked.  
  
"Well enough. He is in more pain than he would like to admit, and his exhaustion has him worn to the bone. But he made me swear to wake him in an hour,"  
  
"He will not be fit for battle if he does not rest," I said, afraid for our good friend.  
  
"Do you think any of us are?" Legolas asked, taking his head from my breast and looking at me sharply. His tone brought back memories of what had transpired only two nights ago, and I looked away, not wishing to fight with him.   
  
"I am sorry, Calahdra. I hate to raise my tone, especially towards you. But I do not see the hope you do. Though your people are strong and stubborn, they cannot win this fight. Not against ten thousand!" he said.   
  
I stood and left the room, beckoning for him to follow. I had little patience considering how nervous I already was, and as much as I did not wish to fight with him, I feared I would anyways. I figured it would be wise to spare Aragorn the disruption.  
  
"What would you have us do? Up and leave this place? We came here knowing that Saruman's evils would follow. Helm's Deep offers us our best chance at survival!" I said after shutting the door to the chamber.   
  
And then a terrifying assumption arose within me that explained his wishing to speak to Aragorn and his anger now.  
  
"You want to flee," I said quietly, shocked and terrified and furious all at once.  
  
"What?" he asked shocked.   
  
"You could run away right now if you wished and never have to look back. You feel trapped here, convinced that you are going to die, and you'd rather leave while you still have the chance," I said dismally.  
  
"No...No! No, Calahdra, that isn't what I mean...that's not at all...How could you think that?" his question was both one of horror and insult.  
  
"Then what do you mean?" I parried, ignoring his question, "Your words don't change anything. Whether we had come here or not, Saruman still would have attacked, and at least here we have a few more men, a solid fortress, and our people are safe while we defend it! Anywhere else, the women and children would have been raped and killed!"  
  
"And you think that they will not be?" he said, quite nearly shouting. And suddenly a great pain came into his eyes, quieting his bitter voice, "You believe that you won't be? Calahdra, you may be a soldier in the eyes of your people and your customs, but to anyone else, including those of the enemy, you are a girl! You can not possibly believe that a sword and armor and some necklace can protect you any better than you might have been without them!" He said, his voice catching with emotion and fear. His normally calming grey eyes were now alight with passion, but the sort of passion that filled me with an aching dread.  
  
I stood stock still, and stared at him blankly. He had crossed a line he had sworn he would not bridge.   
  
"Your fear blinds you," I said simply, my voice much colder than I intended it to be. I turned face and walked away from him, shaking so hard that my mail sounded similar to rain.   
  
I found Theoden where he said he'd be, and I spent the remainder of the morning and the early afternoon with him, my mind teeming with what had transpired earlier. I pushed the argument out of my head he best I could, for it filled me with shame and sadness and Theoden needed my attention.  
  
I was sent on multiple searches, quests, and retrievals throughout the day, and not once did I see Legolas. At first, I was glad of this, but as time wore on and he remained unseen, I became angry. Although I was quite enamored with him, I still desperately ached for his company. And then I realized that he probably assumed I wanted space. It had, of course, been I that had stormed away. He probably figured that I would find him when I needed to, and no sooner or later than then.   
  
By mid-afternoon, Theoden dismissed me. Aragorn and Gimli had joined him for a final inspection of the fortifications and Legolas was to arrive soon. Theoden gave me a long list of errands and instructed me to rest and prepare my weapons for battle once I had completed his bidding.   
  
As I left, Aragorn placed a firm hand on my shoulder, effectively stopping me.   
  
"Calahdra, whatever you said to Legolas has him in a right temper,"  
  
I looked up at the ranger, and he frowned as he saw the expression on my face.  
  
"I'm sorry," I managed, and I walked on.  
  
I carried out the instructions given to me and returned to my chamber. Lying on the bed, I placed my hands over my eyes, exhausted both mentally and physically.   
  
A knock on the door awoke me from my reverie.  
  
I went to it and opened it, finding Eowyn outside.  
  
"My lady, please come in," I said, a little taken aback.  
  
"Oh no, I'm sure you are trying to rest. All I wanted was to give this to you," she said, handing me a small piece of battered parchment, "I found it in the archives here, and I thought that it might interest you,"  
  
"Thank you, Eowyn, for thinking of me," I said, curious as to the contents of her gift.  
  
"You are very welcome," she said, smiling, and although she looked as tired as the rest of us, the rare sight made her look more beautiful than ever. Just as she looked as though she was turning to leave, she checked herself and placed a hand on my arm, "And Calahdra...I wanted to thank you...to tell you how grateful I am for what you're doing. Rohan needs you Calahdra," she said. I nodded to her, feeling overwhelmed at the amount of admiration I had received today.   
  
When she left, I returned to my bed and unfolded the square of parchment. Inside was a letter written in a bold script. It dated back to about two hundred years ago, and it was a letter from a woman named Katarin to her husband.  
  
 _"Dearest Husband,  
  
This is the first letter I have sent to you since we last saw each other, so many months ago, and I fear that this may be my last for a long while. The King has ordered for our company to move far north and I fear that there will be little chance of sending post where we are going.  
  
That last time we spoke, you said that you did not understand my "obsession" with my duties as a Shieldmaiden. I have thought long and hard on an answer to that question, and finally I have come to a conclusion.   
  
All my life I was trained in the ways of killing. I was born into a world of death and destruction and pain. I struggled to find my way in this world, and I was determined to grasp something greater than the endless carnage that existed around me. But a life created out of such darkness can not easily part from it, and so, as my life wore on, I came to the conclusion that my place was defending the people I loved.   
  
I took up the oaths of a Shieldmaiden not because I had to or chose to, but rather because that was I had been created to do so. I was so sure of my destiny and my purpose that I thought very little about my motives and instead I imagined the life before me.   
  
And as time went by, peace began to settle over our land for a time, and when leave was granted to me, I returned to my home and I found you. You, my love, are the love of my life. Without you I am nothing and with you I feel as though I am everything that is good and green in this world.  
  
We fell in love, as the stories go, and we married. I bore our son and I watched him grow. But a time came when the quiet that our country had finally earned was shattered and I was called away again. And I left not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Because in leaving you, I was protecting you. In parting ways, I was drawing the evil away from you.  
  
I know that you never understood why I left, but I do not think that you need to. In the end, neither one of us had a choice. I had made the decision before I had even met you to leave that day, and you had sworn to love me all my life, no matter what was thrown our way.   
  
You know that I am a strong believer in fate, and this is what I believe fate intended. Both of us have followed our passions, and although we have strayed from each other as a result, we were never truly parted. I love you just as much as the day I swore myself to you, and I know in my heart that you feel the same.   
  
I send this letter because there is a great chance that I may not return. As always, I shall be in the frontlines of battle, ever beside my King. Should the battle go ill, at least I shall die with a smile on my face knowing that you could at least attempt to understand the thoughts that have driven me to where I am today, and that you know that I still love you.   
  
You are my everything, and my forever, and I shall always love you, even when the stars have broken open and all the darkness in the sky has poured forth over this great land.   
  
With all my love,  
You darling wife  
Katarin. _  
  
  
At the bottom of the note was the read script of a librarian's notes.  
  
 _Writer perished only a few days after completion. Found within pack beside body. Returned to Helm's Deep archives._  
  
I reread the letter twice and tears came to my eyes both times. This letter, although two hundred years my senior, depicted everything I wished to tell Legolas now. How Eowyn had picked now to give this to me was a mystery I could not grasp.   
  
As I sat in astonishment for some time more, I could hear the men outside become increasingly noisy. I could feel their fear like a fine mist.  
  
I rarely used my powers of mind-speak for anything more than speaking with Meleare, but I was genuinely interested in the thoughts running through the head of those outside. And so, clearing my mind of all of the emotions that had run amuck before, I sent my consciousness outside the walls of my bedchamber and grasped at the hall outside. Coming across a man, I probed gently within his mind and found the fear I had expected. But he was also thinking about his daughter, who was being moved to the caves with her four month old child. He worried for her and her husband, who was a soldier that had fled with Lord Eomer after his exile. He missed his wife...she would have known how to comfort him and how to care for Leoni and the baby....  
  
I pulled out of this man's thoughts, feeling exhausted quite suddenly. I had read that invading a person's mind when they were in turmoil would exhaust me more quickly than reading a calm person's, and I certainly felt that now. I had not practiced controlling my powers in a while, and that took a toll on me as well.   
  
I lied down after removing my chain mail and bracers and promised myself that I would only take a short nap. But the moment my head touched the mattress, I could tell that that promise would be added to a list of many. A list of all of the promises I had made to myself and resolutely broken


End file.
